


Touche de Désir

by ShippingEruri (shippingeruri), TheHeartOfStories



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 17th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Drug Use, Europe, France (Country), French Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), German Erwin Smith, M/M, Rape, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, Versailles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26833066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shippingeruri/pseuds/ShippingEruri, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHeartOfStories/pseuds/TheHeartOfStories
Summary: Versailles, 1690.Bavaria has fallen. Young Prince -- now King -- Erwin seeks refuge at Versailles.His stay is nothing more than tolerated: unwelcomed.With only Michael as his closest friend, he needs to be careful with whom he trusts.Levi, burdened with a dark secret that brings, above all else, hardship, has deemed himself as unworthy of life's pleasures.When the King of France, Louis XIV, tasks Erwin with the impossible, the unlikeliest of lives are forever intertwined.But will they allow themselves to cherish what they find in each other, or will the duties of the men they are forced to be tear their relationship apart?Spotify-Playlist for Touche de DésirArt Commission for Touche de Désir by varrix
Relationships: Levi & Erwin Smith, Levi/Erwin Smith
Comments: 48
Kudos: 106





	1. L'arrivée / Die Ankunft / The Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Hallo, Bonjour and Hello!
> 
> Welcome to this slow-burn fanfic <3
> 
> We've started this as an RP but have now decided to start editing it into a fanfic as we continue with our RP. We can't promise regular updates but the first 6 chapters are getting edited by us as of the moment :)
> 
> We're an English and a German native speaker, so please bear with our Google-translated French :D [also, French natives: please feel free to let us know what should be changed!]
> 
> The people at Versailles would naturally speak French while Erwin, Mike and Erwin's mother would converse in German usually.  
> If not indicated, you can assume that Erwin is speaking French with a heavy German accent (unless he speaks to his mother or Mike)
> 
> This fic is not historically accurate!
> 
> Erwin posts are written by ShippingEruri  
> Levi posts are written by TheHeartOfStories

**Touche de Désir / Berührung des Verlangens / Touch of Desire**

"Mutter [Mother]?"

Erwin carefully touched his mother's arm. The woman opened her eyes, looking around irritatedly as she cleared her throat.

"Are we finally there?" She wanted to know, her voice thin, ghost-like.

Erwin nodded, grey sky outside making it hard to judge if it was morning or afternoon while thin rain came down.

"Michael rode ahead and just returned. We will be there in a few moments."

Erwin would not have dared to wake his mother since she had hardly found any sleep on their long journey.

The journey had been less pleasant than he had hoped for; the weather had gotten worse with every day. It was cold, wet, and the street conditions made the journey even more unpleasant. The fact that they had left in a hurry, only had taken the necessities with them when the mob was about to set their home ablaze, provided a lack of almost everything while they had travelled towards Versailles: a place where Erwin last had been as a young child.

He could hardly remember anything of it, and the things he could remember all were connected to his father…

He could see the pain in his mother's eyes, could see her grief, while she let her gaze wander to the outside world that unfolded in front of them. Erwin held her hand as his eyes also scanned the nature that looked so much different than in Bavaria. This area truly was beautiful -- breathtaking -- and he could see why a king would choose to give his hunting castle that much more room in his life than intended.

Just when the road followed a small bend and the trees made way for an undisturbed view of Versailles, the sky ripped open. Sun rays touched the ground. The view was gorgeous, surreal almost, as a faint rainbow formed on the horizon.

Then their carriage came to a halt in front of what was to be one of the most impressive buildings Erwin had ever seen. In awe, Erwin silently examined the palace. The golden roof and windows of the French King's residence were lit up. Versailles was indeed an architectural masterpiece, far bigger than what it used to be when Erwin was here as a child. Over the years the French King had added more wings and buildings. It was the embodiment of a great ruler with a vision.

After Michael and Erwin had helped his mother go inside -- the shock of losing her husband and the stress of the journey were rooted deep -- they were guided to their guest rooms. The overflow of impressions was almost too much for Erwin, who had had hardly any sleep on the journey: processing the events; planning on how to go on; how to make a return. And now that he arrived here, there were too many people that eyed him and his poor mother, too many whispers in a language he was very well aware of but hardly had spoken himself. He felt exhausted, tired, and while his mother found support from one of her cousins whom she had contacted while they were leaving their home behind, Erwin knew nobody besides the people he had brought with him: his mother and Michael.

But Michael, his best friend and personal bodyguard, above all, was the only one he could fully trust -- for now.

After the two men had refreshed themselves, made themselves look presentable in the best way possible after the last two weeks -- and Erwin had made sure that his mother was taken care of -- Michael and Erwin headed to an audience with the King: Louis XIV, the Sun King, the most pompous ruler this country had ever seen.

Erwin was expected to express his gratitude for their shelter in these times. Yet he didn't feel like it; he felt like taking an army; returning home … Not to shed more blood but to get his father's dead body from the people that had killed him.

To bring him _peace_.

But here he was, without sleep, without proper French, just on the other side of twenty, and he had to speak to the King of France.

They were guided, more with gestures than words, since nobody knew if he or Michael – who could not – were able to speak French. Then they arrived before the King's audition room where his close advisers, his wife, his children, and more guards than were needed awaited them. When he stood in front of the door, Erwin took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment. He ran his hand through his hair once more, made sure his collar was in place, and when his fingers ran over all the medals and badges that were pinned to his jacket, he opened his eyes again, somewhat reassured.

He gave Michael a smile.

“Alles wird gut [Everything will be fine],” he let his best friend know, who just smiled under his moustache.

Michael opened the door for Erwin, and the two men stepped in front of the King.

The room the audition took place in was richly decorated in gold and white, luxurious chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, exotic flowers covering otherwise undecorated spots. This palace screamed "wealth" at Erwin, wealth his family would never possess... Especially now that he had lost everything his family once owned.

There was a certain crushing feeling overwhelming him while he made his way towards the King, who sat on a pompous chair, the Queen next to him on a far less impressive but still beautifully crafted chair. On their sides, the princes and princesses were lined up. There was no doubt that this was the royal family of France.

Their clothes were made from the finest fabrics, beautiful details on each and every piece. Golden thread and buttons radiated power. Their hair was long. The men wore it down, long locks of hair falling over their shoulders, although some had their hair bound behind their head. The women had their tresses pinned up in creative ways and richly decorated with accessories. The King's advisors were dressed far less pompously, but their style of clothing made them Frenchmen without a doubt. Their shoes and trousers -- everything -- were so much more well thought out and elegant with lots of details than what Erwin was accustomed to.

And then there were Erwin and Michael, both tall, strong, blond German picture book men: far less dressed for the occasion and with their German hairstyles. Erwin wore his formal, dark blue uniform that displayed his diplomatic and battle experience. Michael also wore a formal uniform and followed just two steps behind Erwin. All eyes in the room were focused on them, and it drained even more of what little energy Erwin had left.

While they came forward, one of the King's advisors formally announced Erwin.

"Louis XIV, Louis le Grand, le Roi Soleil, souverain de la France et de son peuple, before you stands Erwin, former Prince of Bavaria, who represents his mother, Susanne, former Queen of Bavaria."

Erwin came to a halt at the carpet in front of the King. Small eyes examined him with raised eyebrows.

Would a bow be sufficient? Under normal circumstances, yes. But these weren't normal circumstances.

So, after he had bowed -- learned behavior -- he kept his head low and sank to his right knee while he placed his right hand over his heart. He knew Michael would copy him, and the sight of these two tall Germans kneeling in front of the French King must have been amusing for some of the people present as soft chuckles were heard.

Erwin gulped heavily as he tried to find his voice, sort his thoughts, and remember all the French he had learned. He lifted his head again, looked the man in front of him right in the eye.

"My King, my great King, King Louis XIV, Louis le Grand, le Roi Soleil, souverain de la France et de son peuple,” Erwin started, a bit unpracticed, and then cleared his throat.

"I, Erwin, son of the former King of Bavaria, stand before you today to thank you for your generosity in allowing my mother, Susanne..." He hesitated for a moment.

There was indeed no kingdom they had left.

"...Former Queen of Bavaria, and myself to find shelter in your beautiful home. We are forever in your debt. If we can be of any service to you, please speak it, and we will do everything in our power to please you,” Erwin ended and lowered his head again.

There was an awkward pause. Erwin heard suppressed giggles. His heart rate rose, and his jaw clenched as he tried to calm down. He knew his French wasn't perfect, far from it, to be fair, but he had tried. Now he hoped his language knowledge wouldn’t betray him.

"Erwin, willkommen in Versailles! [Erwin, welcome to Versailles!],” a deep and cool voice let him lift his head quickly as the King gave him a generous smile.

"You're kneeling before me, not standing. I ask you to rise up so we can all admire your German features,” the King continued, and Erwin took a deep breath.

Was the King trying to humiliate him? Probably... But he and Michael followed his command and stood tall and upright again. Erwin ran a hand through his hair to bring some loose strands back in order.

"That's much better. Look at the two of you: taller and much more decorated than most of the people at my court here,” the King seemed to praise them and clapped his hands a few times lazily, just to snarl, amused.

"And yet you have lost your home to Austria and need my help,” the King smirked.

Erwin froze. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he tried to let this pass… But it cut deep.

It was all true.

“One of my men here...” The King made a gesture, which summoned forth a tall man with long, black hair, a lean face, but, from what Erwin could tell, a strong body beneath his clothes, “...Killed more people with his own hands than you. Maybe I should appoint him ruler of Bavaria?”

The King gave Erwin a questioning look while the man gave a small bow.

“Whatever pleases mon roi [my King],” he smirked with a dark voice before finding his place behind the nobles again.

Erwin heard Michael breathing heavily just behind him. They came here to give thanks for refuge and yet were insulted after going through what they had gone through over the last few weeks. The ruler of France was indeed known for being very provocative, so Erwin tried to brush it off, not let it get too close to him.

There was an unpleasant silence. Erwin didn’t know if he was to speak or if he should wait for the King to address him again. He felt lost, insecure -- something not very typical for him.

“Why don’t we sit and have some tea,” he suggested, but his tone left no room for negotiation.

“Everyone, out!” He ordered, and all the fine ladies and gentlemen bowed before being on their way.

The King, his advisors, Erwin, and Michael were left in the room.

“Folgt mir [Follow me],” King Louis invited Erwin and Michael with a gesture as he rose from his chair.

They followed the King to a small table with some chairs.

“Please, sit,” he said after he had let himself down, and all his advisors stood behind his back.

Erwin and Michael had waited for the King to sit down first. Erwin couldn’t get rid of that unsettling feeling. He was inexperienced with French etiquette, with talking to someone as mighty as the French King in a language other than his native tongue.

“We shall have tea. Let the _boy_ bring it,” the King said, and one of his advisors was off with a bow.

***

Narrowed gray eyes followed Isabel’s delicate hands as she arranged a tray of freshly-brewed tea. A hiss escaped her lips, her fingertips burning on the side of the porcelain kettle. Levi strode to her side to whisk it away from her. She buried her fingers in the folds of her stained apron, a sheepish grin dimpling her cheeks.

“I’d have your head, girl, if you had dropped this,” Levi clicked his tongue at her over his shoulder as the polished toe of his shoe kicked open the kitchen door.

***

“Erwin, tell me, how is your Mutter doing?” King Louis asked as he leaned back, and a worried expression on his face let Erwin believe that he was genuinely interested.

“Considering the circumstances, she’s holding up,” was Erwin’s brief answer.

Next to him, Michael sat stiffly. Erwin assumed he was trying to catch what they were talking about.

“That’s good to hear, my German friend. Your father was a good man, and I can only assume how much pain you and your family are going through at the moment.” King Louis nodded. “Tell me, does your friend here have a name? Does he speak the greatest of all languages?” The King asked with a smile.

The group of advisors behind the King seemed like an indestructible wall. They stood there, motionless, observing the conversation, silently judging Erwin’s French, joining in King Louis’ mood whenever he switched from kind to mocking.

Erwin took a deep breath. The King managed to switch from showing empathy to demonstrating his power within a split second.

“His name is Michael. He’s my close advisor, and, unfortunately, he doesn’t speak French. But he has mastered Czech, so I’m sure he’ll manage to pick up your beautiful language here with ease,” Erwin declared, and the King nodded.

“I see… So what use should I make of the two of you while you’re my guests here?” The King asked. “I think you understand that living under my roof comes with a price, and since you’re short on financial means as of the moment, I need something else from you.”

King Louis gave Erwin an intense look.

Erwin had thought about this on their way to Versailles, but he felt unprepared to answer this question. He moved uneasily in his chair, the medals on his jacket chinking softly.

“I’m not sure if we can be of adequate service for your Majesty, Louis le Grand, le Roi Soleil. You have built a perfect place here…” Erwin spoke, and the King chuckled.

“Thank you for your kind words, my German. I remember you once visited here with your father -- qu'il repose en paix [may he rest in peace] -- when you were just a young boy. Much has changed since then,” he nodded.

Resting in peace was about the last thing his father did as of the moment, and it was unsettling for Erwin.

It hurt.

He swallowed down the thought and looked the King in the eye again.

“I could offer you strategic and financial advice if that would please your Majesty,” he said, and the King answered with heartfelt laughter.

Again, it stung, as Erwin realized his proposal was foolish, based on his own perception of his skills and not near any real expectations as of the moment.

“Excusez-moi [excuse me], Erwin. But you have no penny left and lost your kingdom. How exactly do you think you can be of any help to me in these areas?”

Erwin remained silent as the King and his advisors all gave him pitiful, mocking smiles.

Michael leaned towards Erwin, whispering quickly in German: “Soll ich ihn umbringen [You want me to kill him]?”

Erwin placed his hand on Michael’s knee. His friend understood all too well from body language that this conversation was not in Erwin’s favor.

“Danke, nein [Thanks, no],” Erwin replied and bowed his head towards the King.

“Would you mind telling me what your friend just said?” King Louis asked with raised eyebrows.

Erwin cleared his throat.

“He was making a comment about how beautiful everything here is,” he lied as best as he could, and the King seemed to be pleased.

“I see, but I’d rather not have him interrupt our conversation.”

King Louis gave Michael a look, and Erwin bowed his head again.

“Excusez-moi, mon roi [Excuse me, my King].”

There was an awkward silence once more.

“I just remembered when you were here as a child, you were loved by all the ladies at Versailles. Your golden locks and your broken French charmed all of them. Maybe I should have you entertain the ladies here?” The King laughed, his advisors joining in.

Erwin wasn’t sure if this was meant as a joke or not, so he forced himself into a very unnatural smile.

While the King laughed, Erwin turned towards Michael.

“Vielleicht frage ich dich wirklich noch, ob du ihn umbringen kannst [Maybe I will really end up asking you to kill him],” he laughed and smiled, so Michael joined in.

They all were laughing — for different reasons.

***

The trickling of Isabel’s giggles faded behind Levi’s back as his echoing steps brought him to the entrance of the King’s audition room. With one hand, he balanced the tea tray against his hip as he fluffed the lace of his cravat. He flicked a curled tendril of his black hair over his shoulder. Quietly, a hesitant hand pushed open the side door to the room with his head bowed low.

Long lengths of cream drapes were pulled back with sashes of ribbon to let streams of cold afternoon light pour across the elaborate carpets. Pairs of comfortable waiting chairs were set about in crescents across from each other. The King, in all of his opulence, basked in the self-assurance that he was more than a God-send to the two exhausted Germans who sat opposite of him, their tight smiles no more than polite despite the grandeur all around them.

Approaching footsteps caught Erwin’s attention. A rather small, pale, but well-dressed young man approached the table with a tablet, bringing the promised tea.

Was he a servant?

Erwin mustered his appearance. He was too well-dressed for that, even for France.

Levi choked back a bark of laughter at the wild gestures between one particular German and his own fat father, stutters of broken German and French flitting between them. The shadowed eyes of one of the men flicked over him dismissively, and the edge of his thick moustache crinkled up.

“No, I wouldn’t want the ladies here to set their expectations too high by getting treated by such a handsome man as yourself. You see, most marriages here are made for a reason, not out of love,” King Louis declared.

Levi carefully set the tray on the low table in the center of their fine sitting area, his hands collecting steam from the tea as he poured their cups. Levi stepped away from the table.

“I think it is like th --,” Erwin was abruptly cut off.

“ _Boy_ ,” the King held up his hand in front of the German to silence him.

“Sit with us,” pudgy fingers plopped onto the armrest of the chair beside his own.

Erwin became more and more sure that he wasn’t a normal servant.

One of Levi’s fists clenched at his side, but he quickly schooled the creases of frustration on his face into submission before he nodded once. Begrudgingly, he stiffly sat on the edge of the embroidered cushion with his ankles crossed, all too aware of the rarity that his father’s desire for his presence was. Then the King returned his attention to the men before them, his putridly rosey smile apologetic with a gesture towards Levi’s ever-darkening countenance.

Erwin thought the boy was very handsome for a man -- petite, almost. His long hair was beautiful, his clothes were of exquisite quality, and his cravat was way less pompous than everyone else’s. It fit him well, whatever his position in this odd conversation was to be.

The stilted conversation returned with a flourish of contrasting accents. Levi bit his lip to contain the kiss of a disdainful smirk at the gibberish words that dared to assault his ears. He lazily watched the Germans, a thin brow raised as he examined the man with lighter hair carefully clipped short in an undercut.

Erwin and Michael forced themselves to laugh along with the King's not-so-funny jokes, but Erwin’s attention went back to the man that might have been just a little bit younger than himself. He somehow looked like he didn’t really belong here, unpractised in royal conversation -- well, Erwin was too. He didn’t participate, so who was he? He obviously was amused by Erwin’s accent, like probably everyone else here, and he only tried so much to hide his amusement.

Then, the King’s head turned to the _boy_ ever so slightly.

“This German,” the King pointed with his tea cup at the blue eyes intently staring at Levi as he spoke quickly in French again, “shall teach you to play the piano.”

A soft snort blew through Levi’s nose as his arms crossed over his chest.

“In exchange --” rivers of blue met the chill of steel “-- you shall teach him French.”

Levi’s lips parted softly as he seethed.

And Erwin learned what his duty in Versailles would be.

Erwin widened his eyes, and he forgot to breathe for a moment. Did he just understand correctly that he was supposed to teach a random person how to play the piano? And did he also get it right that he was to improve his French with this person?

The grey eyes of the nameless man pierced Erwin’s gaze.

“This’ll be fucking horseshit,” Levi hissed beneath his breath, his gaze falling from the German’s face to his own feet instead.

Neither of them seemed too happy with the King's proposal.

Levi missed the wilting glare his father shot him before returning to his conversation with the Germans.

How did the King of France even know of Erwin’s talent for the piano? Had word traveled outside of Bavaria?

***

“Meine Güte, Erwin [My goodness, Erwin] I wouldn’t wanna change places with you right now,” Michael sighed after they returned to their chambers as he helped his best friend out of the stiff jacket.

“It’s not like I have any right to question the King’s decision. He’s so full of himself, and as the great ruler of this marvelous country, he sure knows how to humiliate me,” Erwin groaned and rolled his shoulders.

“If he wants me to teach the piano to whoever that was, I’ll do it. But I can only do so much; if the student doesn’t want to learn, I can’t help it. And improving my French might be a good idea, although I’m not convinced that he will be a good teacher. I think we will both fail with the tasks given to us by the King, I will be the joke of Versailles -- if I am not exactly that already -- and we’ll have to leave sooner rather than later,” Erwin rambled on while he unbuttoned his shirt.

“Alles wird gut [Everything will be fine],” Michael mumbled. “Didn’t you say that earlier today?”

He smiled as he put his hand on Erwin’s shoulder.

“I did… But I’m not sure if that’s still true after this encounter,” Erwin sighed.

“You’re a wunderkind when it comes to the piano. You’ll be able to fulfill your part of the King’s request, and if this other guy fails his part, well, then it’s not your fault, because I know you’ll be able to speak French just as perfectly as all these Damen und Herren hier [ladies and gentlemen here] with the right teacher,” Michael tried to cheer his friend up.

“Danke [Thank you]. I really appreciate your words, Michael,” Erwin nodded before he headed to the washroom to have a long, hot bath after this ordeal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the kick-off to a slow burn AF historic AU collab fanfic that will get edited & updated from a RP that we're writing while both of us have other RPs and fanfics going on.
> 
> But we just could not NOT write this :)
> 
> We welcome constructive feedback or your theories about what will happen. Any words of encouragement are appreciated <3


	2. Bandages En Lin / Leinenverbände / Linen Bandages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Erwin prepares for his first piano lesson with the boy, Master Levi.

As soon as the Germans were escorted out of the audition room, Levi flew to his feet, his muscles eagerly itching to take him far, far away from the prospect thrust upon him by the King of learning to play the piano from a man who barely spoke his own language. But the King was quick to rise as well, and he turned to Levi, his fatness blocking his quick escape. Levi scowled at his father’s ever-reddening face.

“You dare turn your sniveling nose up at the gift of music I have bestowed upon you?” the King questioned through gritted teeth as a pregnant hush fell upon the entourage of people behind them.

Levi heard the resounding slap against his cheek echo to the tops of the arched ceiling before he felt its sting burn his face, his chin tucked into the crook of his spindly shoulder. 

“I have done nothing but give you the very best of things in this world,” the King snarled, specks of spit flying about as Levi’s stunned fingers rose to his face, “which is much more than a wretchedly ungrateful bastard like yourself could ever deserve.” 

The King lunged forward, pinching the top of Levi’s ear with elegantly filed nails. Levi hissed as his father brought him to the tips of his toes, the man’s voice low in his ear while he twisted it. 

“Keep pushing your luck, _boy_ ,” his father strode through the streams of quickly fading afternoon light, practically dragging Levi to the side door he had come into the room from, “and the memory of your mother that I see in your runtish face will not be enough to persuade me to keep you here any longer.” 

Levi wrenched free of the King’s fingers before he could throw him against the door. Pride alone kept his knees from buckling beneath him as he flung the door open. He didn’t bother to close it behind himself, his numb legs taking him through the magnificent palace hallways to his private room.

***

Louis, King of France, was indeed not easy to deal with. Erwin was fully aware of the grand gesture that the King showed towards him and his mother, yet the way Erwin was treated and the conditions under which they were allowed to stay here were far from what he had hoped for.

It was true that he was a talented pianist, that he had shown a gift for the instrument starting from an early age, but he never had to teach anyone how to play the piano. He had been performing to entertain their guests in Bavaria, and, when they had travelled to other royalties in Germany, he would proudly demonstrate his talent.

He had started playing the piano on his own when he had just been two years old, foolish and childish at first, but his mother had gotten him a teacher. By the age of five, Erwin no longer needed a teacher. He also had abandoned reading the note sheets around that time.

As soon as he sat down at a piano, his fingers touching the ivory keys, the music just flew through him. The whole world seemed to disappear. There were just the hammers and strings, the gentle motions of his fingers, his arms moving on their own, his feet tapping the pedals, the vibrations of the tones and sounds filling Erwin’s body. This was nothing he could teach someone; it was a gift that he had.

Yet he was supposed to teach it to _someone_ here at Versailles in order for him and his mother to be able to stay.

***

Twilight had stolen the afternoon sun. The drawn drapes of Levi’s room bound the evening shadows to everything that was his. He sauntered across the room to tie the curtains back, his brows creasing together as he passed the unlit fireplace; why had his servant, Eren, not yet prepared it for the night? 

“Leave them closed, _boy_ ,” a voice rasped from beside the head of his bed. 

Levi whipped around, the hair on his nape rising as fear froze his bones. 

Eren must have been turned away. 

A man stepped forward. His long curls were tied behind his head. A leering smile flashed Levi crooked teeth as he closed the distance between them. Levi stepped backwards, the heel of his shoe smashing into the wall behind him before his shoulders pressed against its cream paint. 

“Did you forget your place this afternoon?” The man whispered, leaning down to menacingly peer into his face. 

The sour kiss of his breath on the bow of Levi’s lips was hot. His hooked nose traced down the length of his trembling jaw. Goosebumps sickeningly licked up Levi’s cold flesh.

“Don’t worry, though,” he whispered into the bruised lines of Levi’s ear as a gnarled hand played with the curls at the base of his neck, “I can always help you remember.” 

With an angry fistful of black hair, the man wrenched Levi’s head back before he marched him to the edge of the bed.

“Monsieur Kenny, please,” Levi whimpered thickly, knowing better than to fight back, before his cheek was roughly pressed into the delicate embroidery of his bed sheets. 

Kenny clicked his tongue, his angry fingers nearly ripping Levi’s pants off of him. 

“Keep quiet,” that ugly voice rasped above him. 

And so Levi stayed silent despite the deep burning inside of him, his teeth biting his chapped lip so hard he tasted iron as he begged the rise of bile at the back of his throat to stay down. When Kenny collapsed onto his thin back with a final thrust, nipping at his shoulder in between the gasps of his climax, Levi was reminded of what it meant to be the bastard son of a man who would never love him. 

***

When Erwin went to bed that night, he couldn’t fall asleep immediately. The bed was more than comfortable after their long journey, and his body embraced the touch of the soft blankets and pillows. He was physically relaxed after the bath, yet his brain was wide awake. Too much had happened over the last few weeks, and the many impressions of Versailles within the last handful of hours were all too present.

Erwin rolled onto his side, a heavy sigh following his attempt to get comfortable.

He wondered if his mother was able to find peace here quickly, if she would be able to find friendship that would help her mourn the loss of her husband, Erwin’s father. Their marriage had been one filled with love, not just duties, as King Louis had pointed out was commonplace in France. And Erwin wondered if he would ever be able to find that, or if he would get married for diplomatic reasons like so many other unmarried nobles.

If it would help him reclaim what was his family’s, if it would somehow benefit the reputation of his family, he would do it. That was his duty as a son and as the Prince -- or now technically -- the King of Bavaria. But this probably also wasn’t something he would have to think through right now. First, he needed to make sure to establish his position here, get to understand the rules of this very strange and odd place.

And by learning French properly, his chances to fit in easier would increase a lot. That’s what he had to focus on right now; adapting to this place, finding where he belonged in Versailles, and making sure he and his mother would have everything they need.

  
***

Levi was unsure of how much time had passed since he had numbly collapsed onto the floor after Kenny had left, his shaking frame curled up against the side of the bed frame with his pants still piled about his ankles. His breath hitched each time he felt more of Kenny’s spunk drip from himself. 

His room was cast in blackness by the time his fumbling fingers felt around for his pocket knife in the depths of his breast pocket. With a flick of his wrist, the sharp blade was freed, and his practiced hand let the blade kiss his thighs crimson. 

***

  
Just when Erwin was about to fall asleep, the bright light of lightning filled the room in a grotesque white-yellow tone, making all the filigree and handcrafted decorations look rather morbid and dark. The roaring sound of thunder followed shortly after, as if the heavens were screaming at humanity. Heavy rain started to pour down. A constant, gentle hammering sound filled Erwin’s room as raindrops knocked on his window.

If it weren’t for the fire in the fireplace that his personal butler, Armin, had started while Erwin had had a bath, he would be freezing now. It was Fall, and the weather here was far more unpleasant than in Germany around this time, with more rain and thunderstorms.

But the rain helped to numb his thoughts, drowning his wandering mind in peace until exhaustion took over. His breathing became deep and relaxed.

***

Dawn crept through the cracks in between the drawn drapes, muted still by the storm from yesterday that stubbornly refused to abate. 

Levi’s cheek was sore from resting against the wood length of his bed frame, his muscles stiff from another night of catatonic stillness. Blinking the dryness from his shadowed eyes, he sucked in the breath of an unwanted life back into his shriveled veins. Fingers as hard as marble eased their white-knuckled grip on the hilt of his pocket knife. The blade clattered beside his bare ass, the sharpened steel reflecting up the mottling of fresh bruises from angry hands along the paleness of his now-bloodied hips. Levi’s bones shook as he brought his aching body onto his feet. He gingerly pulled his pants back up, careful to hold its waistband away from the cuts that kissed from the gentle rise and fall of his stomach down to the tops of his knobby knees. 

His toes cracked as he awkwardly waddled through the threshold of his wash room. He slipped his shoes off, let his pants fall round his ankles again. As he stepped out of them, his fingers fumbled with the rest of the buttons on his clothes. He warily pulled his sleeves over his wrists and the undersides of his forearms, his tender cuts already puckered and bruising round their ragged edges. 

Nakedness, goosebumps licking up his exposed flesh, suited the stark rawness of his mind and heart. 

Levi drew himself a shallow bath of cold Autumn water, just enough to wet his ankles. After lowering himself into the water, he dampened a cream washcloth and dabbed at the dried rust rivulets on his skin. Blotches of swelling muscles were red and purple in places, but he managed to choke back painful hisses as he worked to clean himself up. 

***

“Guten Morgen [good morning],” Michael greeted Erwin after his body had decided that he had gotten enough sleep

He lazily opened his eyes. Michael and Erwin had adjoining rooms, and, since Michael was also in charge of Erwin’s safety, he had sat down on a chair with a cup of tea in Erwin’s room, waiting for his best friend and Prince to awaken.

Erwin tried to sit up, a relaxed yawn leaving his lips as he stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders. 

“Guten Morgen,” Erwin replied and blinked leisurely. 

“What time is it?” He asked.

Michael put down the teacup on the table next to him and pulled out the pocket watch that was attached to his vest. 

“9:30. Should I ring for Armin to fetch you something to eat?” 

Erwin nodded, and Michael rose from the chair. He tugged on a golden string that hung next to the main door of Erwin’s room, and the faint sound of a bell ringing could be heard. Michael returned to his chair and continued to drink his tea. Just moments later, a knock was heard at Erwin’s door. 

“Come in.” Erwin commanded as he rose from the bed in his nightgown.

“King Erwin, you called for me. How may I be of your service?” The young blond man spoke slowly -- probably to make sure Erwin would be able to understand him -- with a bow after he had entered. 

“Armin, I’d like to eat something and drink some tea. Could you bring something to my room?” Erwin asked, and the young man, who seemed to be more like a boy, nodded. 

“It’ll be my pleasure, King Erwin. May I recommend you try one of Versailles’ most beloved breakfasts? A hearty pastry filled with meat, cheese, and herbs with one of our kitchen’s specialities on the side: a cake-like pastry that goes well with tea.” Armin offered, and Erwin nodded. 

“That sounds just about right. Please make sure to bring breakfast for me and my friend, Michael.” Erwin made a gesture towards Michael, and Armin nodded again. 

“Of course, King Erwin.” He bowed again and then closed the door behind himself.

“He’s a bit odd?” Michael tilted his head to the side. “I mean, he’s so young. Why would he be the personal butler of someone like you… Or anyone for that matter?”

“We all have to start finding our place in this world at some point, Michael. And maybe it’s custom in France to have young people be in charge of their unwelcome guests?” Erwin snorted before he got some clothes and disappeared into the wetroom.

***

Kenny had been particularly rough last night; Levi could still feel his fucking at the base of his ribs. But he was bitterly thankful to feel the dried flakes of cum that had dripped out of him melt away in his bath. 

When the chilly water had numbed his aching flesh just enough to render the pain bearable, he drained the tub. Shivering hands patted a soft towel against himself before he went to dress his wounds with strips of clean linen. Then he threw on his riding clothes, indulging in the smell of his favorite leather polish on his boots.

Levi strode from his bedroom and kept himself hidden in the early morning shadows cast about the long hallways as he made his way to the threshold of the kitchen vegetable gardens. He paid no heed to the rows and rows of blooming figs that bowed the branches of out-of-season trees. He ignored the green vines of tall terraces, dewy still from last night’s rain, as he searched for Isabel and Farlan, who were, undoubtedly, stuffing their faces with stolen food at this time of quiet day. 

***

When Erwin returned from his wetroom, Armin was about to set up the breakfast for the two men. 

“King Erwin, you’re expected to find yourself in the small music room, down the corridor on the left at 11:00 for your first lesson with Master Levi.” Armin let him know before bowing again. “Please ring for me if there’s anything I can help you with.” He offered with a smile.

“Je vous remercie [Thank you]!” Erwin replied and gestured to Armin that he could leave.

Once the door closed behind the young man, Erwin let himself down with a sigh. 

“The King won’t even give me any time to arrive here, adjust myself, or figure out how to teach the piano to someone.”

“Alles wird gut [Everything will be fine].” Michael offered him a smile. “I’ll make sure to start exploring this enormous place while you teach ‘Master Levi’ piano.”

It was indeed odd that Erwin was to teach someone addressed as “Master” the piano. This person seemed to somehow be close to the King, yet he was addressed like a rich person with no royal ties. So why was he supposed to teach this _nobody_ the piano?

***

It was the shock of red braids haloed about a pale face that drew Levi to where Isabel and Farlan sat on glass stepping stone rounds in the shade of pale leaves. As he approached them, girlish giggles were carried on a gentle breeze that bit through his clothes with the promise of a fast-approaching winter. 

Farlan looked up at Levi when he appeared before them. Isabel squealed with delight when she saw him. An outstretched hand offered him a thin slice of cheese. Begrudgingly, Levi accepted Farlan’s slice before he sunk down onto his own glass round. He steeled his face from wincing at the pull of his clothes on the linen bandages just beneath them. His fingers absentmindedly plucked at the hem of his sleeve to keep the frayed edge of the bandage on his wrists hidden. 

The three of them, the best of friends since childhood, chittered amongst themselves, busy hands plating cheeses upon buttered bread with bites of fruit. 

“You ready for our morning ride?” Farlan turned to Levi as he slapped a hand just above his knee. 

Levi bit his cheek, a whimper quickly silenced at the back of his throat. 

“Let’s go, mon putain d'ami blond idiot [my fucking idiotic blond friend],” he rose to his boots with a grunt. 

The young men said their goodbyes to Isabel, and they fell into a comfortable silence as they headed for the stables. When Levi found his black mare, Kuchel, tucked away in her stall, he whispered sweet nothings into her warm muzzle while his practiced hands equipped her tack. 

He and Farlan lazily rode the lilt of rolling hills that gave way to canopies of gold and orange and vermillion. Dappled cloud light shone through shivering leaves, their muffled horse clops absorbed by the smooth bark of the woods. Levi brought Kuchel close to Farlan, a loose curl falling against his flushed cheek. 

“So,” Farlan grinned, “did you get to meet the Germans yesterday?” 

“Unfortunately,” Levi grimaced, a hand absentmindedly fluttering up to his bruised ear. 

“And,” Farlan raised a brow. 

Levi rolled his eyes. 

“They’re as tall as the garden statues with heads blonder than your own.” 

Farlan’s fingers drummed on his reigns. 

“The King wishes the Prince of Bavaria to teach me how to play the piano,” he scoffed.

“Sensationnel [wow],” Farlan snorted, “maybe next I’ll take you under my wing for some figure sketching.” 

Levi scowled as he tugged his long sleeve over his wrist, one hand clutching the reign. When he looked at Farlan, his eyes shot up from his hands to narrow suspiciously on his face. 

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Farlan softened. 

Levi looked at the horizon between the trees and saw nothing but feathered grayness. 

“I must leave,” he led Kuchel back the way he had come, avoiding Farlan’s eyes. 

He left without saying goodbye, and Farlan did not follow him. 

***

Erwin arrived in the music room a few minutes before his appointment. The grand piano was the centerpiece of the richly decorated but somehow abandoned room. Ceiling-high windows let in just enough sunlight on this cloudy day to give the room a nice warm touch.

Erwin’s eyes scanned a wide variety of string and wood instruments. All had been well taken care of. He had heard that the King of France was a big admirer of music and always had several musicians living in Versailles. 

So why was it Erwin’s duty to teach this Master Levi the piano? 

It must be to humiliate him…

His heels clicked on the wooden floor as he approached the piano that was placed just in front of the windows, overlooking a beautiful view of the gardens of Versailles. Although the leaves were changing colors, most trees and plants preparing for the winter to come, it was a beautiful view, and it brought a little bit of peace and ease to Erwin’s mind before his fingers gently touched the top of the piano.

The wood was of fine quality, painted in white not black, probably to fit Versailles’ ambience better. He wandered around the instrument, feeling the structure of the wood, eyeing the well-maintained strings inside before he opened the wooden piece that protected the keys. He couldn’t find a name plaquette for the maker of this beautiful piano, which was quite odd.

His fingertips gently brushed over the keys without pushing them. Just feeling the smooth ivory surface against his skin made him close his eyes with a relieved sigh.

Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to teach someone the piano. Maybe it would help Erwin root in who he was and find the strength to go on from there.

With a swift motion he sat down on the comfortable and well-padded bench in front of the instrument, making sure his jacket would fall down at the back. He unbuttoned the grey jacket to give his arms more freedom to move.

Erwin took a deep breath before he closed his eyes and then let the music flow through him.

  
***

Levi took his time riding Kuchel back to the stables. He shooed the stablehands away from her so he could clean her tack himself, taking pride in the tender care he took of his beloved mare. He wanted to brush and braid her raven mane, but, with a sigh, he knew he shouldn’t keep that damn German Prince waiting much longer. 

His riding boots took him through the serpentine hallways that led to the music room. As he approached, the piano’s cadence sang through the door. Exhausted hands quietly opened it, and he stepped through its threshold. 

The man before him looked different than he had yesterday afternoon. The Prince -- well, Levi guessed it was appropriate to call him the King now -- of Bavaria simply graced the piano with the practiced posture of an old friend, his long fingers dancing across the keys. His chest swelled with the sway of music. His arms flourished about the length of the keys, lilting with a bittersweet melody. 

Levi’s hand fell from the doorknob. Color kissed his pale cheeks. A breath caught in his frozen lungs when he realized the man was beautiful in all of the ways that Versailles was not: beautiful in all of the ways that his life was simply not. 

The door slammed shut behind him. He jumped in his own skin, the spell of music broken. His blush rose to the very tips of his ears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, chapter two of our historical collab fic :)
> 
> Poor Levi... not even in historical AUs he's allowed to have a nice life. 
> 
> But that will change... hopefully... as someone special is about to spend time with him now.
> 
> What are your thoughts? We're excited to hear from you! 
> 
> Chapter 3 coming soon!


	3. Savon à la Peau D'orange et à la Crème de Chèvre / Orangenschalen-und Ziegenmilchkäseseife / Orange Rind and Goats’ Cream Soap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master Levi and King Erwin have their first encounter. But expectations and reality are clashing.

Tones and sounds were flowing through Erwin’s body as he immersed himself in the beauty of music. All sorrow and struggle seemed far away, non-existent while the instrument and Erwin became one. He was present in this state of flow, and it helped him to find some well-deserved peace.

That was until a banging sound ripped him out of his piano play.

Erwin startled, and his head snapped up to the sound source. A few meters away, the pale man from yesterday stood right in front of the door. It seemed like he had failed to close it quietly. His appearance made wrinkles appear on Erwin’s forehead: dirty riding boots; well-worn trousers; and a jacket for the same purpose. He hadn’t even bothered to wash his face or make himself presentable in the least way. It was the King’s mockery that had summoned him here, and he felt even more unwelcomed… Foolish, even, for taking this task seriously to a certain degree.

Erwin took a deep breath as he rose from the padded bench in front of the beautiful instrument. Grabbing his left wrist behind his back, he then walked towards the window front next to him.  
Levi watched the King of Bavaria stand before the arched windows, his countenance golden even in the gray cloud light.

Erwin would do what he had to do to secure his place here, to establish a position that allowed him to reclaim his country.

But he would not let this pass uncommented.

“I assume you’re ‘Master’ Levi?” Erwin found his voice, less of a question rather than a statement, and turned around.

He tried to read the body language and facial expressions of the young man whose head seemed to turn slightly red -- good.

“Do you think it is appropriate to smell like stables and horse shit when the King of Bavaria is about to teach you how to play the piano?” Erwin asked while his eyes wandered all over the petite figure in front of him.

Levi’s fingers balled into trembling fists at his sides, his trimmed nails pressing half-moons into his palms. His shoulders rose sharply with a shallow breath as the King’s eyes bore into him.

“I suggest this to be our first lesson; go back to your rooms; have a hot bath; get dressed appropriately; and we shall meet here again after lunch.” Erwin spoke provocatively and was curious to find out what this ‘Levi’ had to say.

Levi muddled over this man’s instructions. As enticing as a hot bath was, Levi did not have fresh bandages to wrap around his puckered cuts, and his flayed skin crawled at the thought of reapplying soiled cloths. The option of visiting Doctor Hannes for more supplies was viable, but the doctor’s curiosity was insatiable; he would incessantly pry into Levi’s reasons for bringing a blade to his own flesh. Levi’s stomach churned at the thought of divulging his darkest secret -- that Kenny raped him for reasons unfathomable to him -- to any living soul. He shook his head, a curled hair wisp falling across one flushed cheek. Bathing was simply not an option at the moment.

“No,” Levi shrilled, his fists relaxing. “You will teach me as I am now.”

A hand plucked at the hem of his sleeve, mindful of the bloodied edge of the bandage round his bony wrist.

But it was not Doctor Hannes’ annoying persistence that rooted Levi’s boots to the wooden floor; it was solely the looming threat of Monsieur Kenny hidden within the shadows of his bedchambers that kept him from fleeing the music room despite this King’s rudeness. Levi did not want to know what Monsieur Kenny would do to him if he ever found out that Levi did not execute the Sun King’s orders with the exact obedience of a well-trained dog.

And yet, Levi was unable to smother the spark of rage within the depths of his gut at this German’s belligerence towards him. He was used to being mocked for his height, his ashen skin, his shadowed eyes, a fowl tongue with worse manners. But it cut him deeply to be insulted for enjoying one of the few activities in his life that brought him a moment of happiness. The only reason why Levi had come to the music room immediately after riding was because he didn’t want to rudely keep this King waiting for him.

Master Levi eyed King Erwin as his thoughts seemed to take him further away from the actual situation here. Erwin furrowed his brows as his eyes -- once more -- wandered over the petite figure in front of him. He saw rage rising, his body trembling, his shoulders shaking -- and then a flood of French poured over Erwin.

“How dare you fucking speak to me like this,” Levi hissed. “You are nothing more than an unwelcome guest in my King’s palace. You should be on your goddamn knees before me, thanking God Himself that all that’s required of you is to teach some fucking wench like me how to play the piano instead of being forced to whore yourself out to the court bitches for the King’s entertainment.”

Erwin didn’t understand everything; all of the words were spoken too hastily; too mumbled; too angry; too perfect. But he got the essence.

Whoever this man was, he revealed a lot about himself as he tried to put Erwin in his place. Mistreated by the people here, Master Levi’s anger was deeply rooted, and Erwin had simply been the trigger to cause this _tantrum_ to unfold in front of him.

What did he have to endure in this cruel place? Who was this man, and what was his role in this act the King of France had set up?

Control slipped through Levi’s slender fingers: control over his life, his body, his emotions. Every aspect of his existence had been made to be nothing more than the entertainment for the powerful. King Louis only sought Levi’s company to watch him blush to the very tips of his ears in humiliation. Kenny’s calloused hands only roughly spread his pale ass cheeks apart to split him in two, used his body for a few minutes to gain a fleeting sense of mortal pleasure as he muttered into Levi’s burning ear that sometimes cumming into his own dirty palm was better than spilling his seed inside of Levi. Fuck, even Levi’s own conception had come about by the King’s desire for a moment of blissful distraction between the creamy thighs of his delicate mistress mother. And here Levi was, being used as a tool -- no, a _toy_ \-- to bring about the King of Bavaria’s own humiliation; Levi’s pitiful existence was seen as nothing more than an extension of the powerful to find more entertainment.

“Maybe you should wash your fucking tongue with soap to rid yourself of that shit-stain of an accent from your awful mouth before you judge me.”

Erwin’s jaw clenched, and he took a deep and audible breath through his nose. Of course his French was far from perfect, and for now it was an easy way to attack Erwin. Yet he was not at all happy with the way he had been addressed and with the words that were thrown at him. He was of royal blood -- and whoever was standing before him was unequivocally not.

Levi whipped around to the door, gasping for breath through his thick throat while his heart beat so hard in his chest that he wondered if it would crack a rib before he got out of the music room. His hand closed around the knob, its gold paint cold against his clammy skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to open the door. His forehead fell against it as he tried to swallow the lump lodged in his throat.

If Levi refused to accept these piano lessons, he would have to answer to Monsieur Kenny and then his father. It made him angry and scared and even more exhausted.

Levi was about to leave -- or was he? -- when Erwin had the chance to take a look at his back view. He was indeed rather small, even for a Frenchman. His whole body was very slight, but Erwin was almost sure he was strong anyway: horseback riding required an overall good physical shape.

The quiet sob that tumbled from Levi’s chapped lips surprised himself. He brought a knuckle to his mouth and sunk his teeth into it, choking off another sob before it was given a voice. The hem of his sleeve slipped down his forearm ever so slightly.

Erwin could see and feel the struggle Levi was going through, the battle he was having in his head that manifested throughout his body.

Levi’s father expected him to fail at learning to play the piano. The deepness of that disgusting man’s belly laughter echoed through the black corners of Levi’s mind, adding kindling to the raging fire within himself. Yes, Levi had no real control over his life, but the ultimate way for him to raise double middle fingers at his father with brass fucking balls was to succeed at learning to play.

His head bobbed eagerly, determination flooding his shaking bones as he bit his cheek to drown out another flurry of soft sobs. Then his muddy boots turned him around to face the King of Bavaria again.

A defiant chin jutted out, his cheeks splotched red and tear-stained as he wiped his running nose with the exposed bandages on his forearm.

“You will teach me to play,” Levi sniffled through gritted teeth. “Now.”

Erwin’s eyes found Levi’s gaze after he had eyed the trails of tears on his ashen cheeks. But he was distracted for a moment when blood-stained linens were exposed. These pure and raw emotions, showing unfiltered during Master Levi’s first encounter with a foreign king…That was rare.

Yet the bandages gave Erwin an unpleasant feeling…

Erwin’s expression became somewhat concerned but also curious. There had to be so much more about this young man than Erwin could tell by now. He spoke his mind, didn’t bother to tone down his words for a king -- at least towards one other than his own King -- and didn’t obey orders given to him by the German man who was in a higher position. His body language, the tone of his voice, his eyes -- they hinted at books full of experiences that shaped who Levi was today.

Was Erwin satisfied by the way their encounter was unfolding? No.

Was he surprised? Absolutely! It had been a good while since someone had spoken to him like that.

Was Erwin -- maybe, to a certain degree -- impressed that someone stood up to him like that? Yes, and he was curious to get to know more about this someone.

If they, together, were to fulfill the King’s orders, they’d have to play along. This was about more than one encounter; it was about the future of Erwin’s life.

Erwin wet his lips before he offered Levi a slight smile and nodded.

“Very well, Master Levi. Then sit,” he instructed Levi and gestured towards the padded bench in front of the piano.

Bloodshot eyes narrowed at the softening creases on the German’s face. Where was the King of Bavaria’s wrath for his open insubordination?

He warily watched the King gesture towards the white piano before his feet moved. Levi walked the length of a crescent to the padded bench, keeping as wide of a distance as possible from that muscular arm. His gaze never left the King’s, and he went so far as to look at him over his shoulder as he sat down.

Erwin could see those grey shards trying to keep him in their field of view.

What had Levi endured to be so full of distrust?

It would not have been the first time a man of power feigned passiveness to lull Levi into a false sense of security before striking him down; he would not allow himself to be this stranger’s victim. Heavy lungs breathed deeply as Levi’s eyes dropped from the King’s polite smile to his own trembling hands in his lap. His thumb rubbed over the teeth marks along his knuckles, and he wiped away the delicate beads of blood risen to the surface of his bruising bite.

Erwin was quite displeased by the smell that came with well-worn riding clothes.

“Take off your boots,” Erwin instructed Levi as he absentmindedly fidgeted with the linen bandages on his wrist.

And then Levi noticed how the sleeve of his riding jacket had caught on the frayed edge of one of the cloths. Nervous fingers hastily tugged it down to the tops of his knobby knuckles.

Erwin tried to not stare, to be polite, but it was hard to miss the obvious injuries, very unlikely from an external force. Levi’s overall state left the impression of a mentally exhausted person.

His fault alone? Very unlikely. Erwin had been here less than 24 hours, and he could feel exhaustion nagging at his mind.

Levi doubted anything went unnoticed by those striking blue eyes. Their clear depths led to an unreadable mind. But he was too tired to care what this King thought of him and his embarrassing outburst.

Instead, he rolled his shoulders a bit to try to ease their tension but only succeeded in coaxing a high-pitched hiccup from himself. Internally groaning, his cheeks were kissed by a faint blush again, the red splotches on his face from crying only darkening.

Begrudgingly, Levi unlaced his riding boots and set them neatly to the side. All of his muscles were tensed to have his back turned to the King even for just a few fleeting seconds. Then he carefully sat on the center of the bench as instructed, the toes of his socks barely skimming the wood floor.

“Just imagine how nice a cup of tea with lunch will be after this first lesson,” Levi whispered to himself, his shadowed eyes fluttering closed as he imagined that a little French tea cup might hold sippable peace in its porcelain bowl.

“Make sure to sit in the middle of the bench so you can reach all keys properly.” Erwin instructed Levi. “Feet sitting relaxed in front of the pedals.”

Erwin cleared his throat as he bowed towards Levi.

“Allow me?” He spoke as he reached for the mechanism to adjust the height of the bench and lowered the whole construction with Levi on it, so he could reach the pedals.

“That’s better,” he nodded.

Erwin stood just behind Levi, to his left, his eyes watching closely as Levi moved. He seemed so uneasy with the situation, so unwilling to be here in this room with Erwin…

Or here in this palace with everyone else?

Erwin took a deep breath, tried to ignore the stables lingering around them by now and reminded himself of his duty while he also considered that Levi had to fulfill his own duty.

He sighed.

“Playing the piano isn’t that much different from riding a horse, actually. Posture is key. You need to know what you’re doing, be in control, be fully aware of the effects your actions have.” Erwin tried to explain.

Although the King’s French was butchered by his thick accent, Levi couldn’t help but enjoy listening to him try to relate to him through horseback riding.

“Make sure to straighten your back,” he said while his right hand wandered down Levi’s back with gentle pressure.

Levi sucked in a shaky breath when the King’s hand drifted down his body, his kind fingers unwittingly tracing over mottled bruises beneath his favorite riding clothes.

“Shoulders back and to the side,” he continued, stepping behind Levi and placing his hands on the diminutive but strong shoulders to bring them gently into position.

Gray eyes watched the German slip just out of view when he moved to stand behind him. Levi’s stomach sank with icy fear.

“Chest to the front,” Erwin’s right hand wandered to Levi’s back again, pushing the upper part of it to the front, which brought Levi’s shoulders even further back.

“Neck straight, chin up,” he concluded as his fingers first gently touched Levi’s neck below his long locks, and then the index finger of his left hand followed Levi’s jawline to lift up his chin a bit.

As this King adjusted how he sat, soft hands kissing his nape and down the length of his jaw to rest on the sharp point of his chin, Levi swallowed. His thin brows lifted in confusion as his burning skin further flushed.

No one had ever touched Levi like this in his life, warm hands as tender as the closest of lovers. For a moment, he found himself relaxing into the comfort of the King’s warmth, his lavender lids fluttering closed.

Erwin felt Levi’s body giving in to his touch, the tension fading for a moment, as if he hadn’t been touched by anyone in a long time. Or at least not touched with fondness, with respect. Erwin could feel muscles trembling, nerves twitching, Levi’s breath stuttering as he swallowed heavily.

He found that touching Levi felt nice. Below the well-worn clothes there was a delicate body, and his skin felt soft and well taken care of where he had touched it. His hair was beautiful; strong locks in a deep shade falling over his shoulders.

The King leaned in close to him and took another deep breath, a hand on Levi’s shoulder holding him in place as that thick accent whispered into the lines of the ear King Louis nearly ripped off of Levi yesterday.

“Remember this posture, Master Levi. I will make sure to remind you of it every time we have a lesson.”

Levi’s eyes shot open, his heart pounding.

Something completely shifted, the short moment of Master Levi relaxing gone within a split second. Erwin furrowed his brows as he stayed in place, his hand still resting on the small shoulder, some strands of dark hair spilling over his arm.

Every fiber of Levi’s being screamed for him to lash out and run as the German echoed words he had felt tear into the hollow of his throat by Monsieur Kenny’s rotten teeth over and over again. But his bones stilled beneath that heavy hand.

With a shudder, Levi wondered if the Sun King had offered his court bastard as a welcoming gift to the King of Bavaria. His insides lurched to remember the way those blue eyes had observed him in the audition room yesterday. Had this King inspected him like a merchant’s basket of fresh peaches then? It certainly would not have been the first time Levi’s father had offered him up to guests like a piece of finely salted meat for the silver cutlery of the elite to sample.

If Levi leaned forward by the width of a hair, the tips of their noses would brush together. He jerked his chin away from the King, his eyes the size of full moons when he beheld the German still so close to him. In that moment, he felt betrayed by his own body for the way his skin reveled to be so near even the smell of the man’s cologne.

It was very much not French, but still, it reminded him of the woods he loved to ride through with Kuchel. His hands itched to feel the comfort of her raven mane tangled in his trembling fingers, his mind commanding him to ride through her strength as hard and as fast as he could to get away from this man.

“My dear King of Bavaria,” Levi whispered into the hushed space between them.

There could be only one course of action: politely beg this German, who he knew could easily overpower him, to not fuck him over the piano. Levi still fiercely needed time to recover from Monsieur Kenny’s roughness yesterday evening.

“I see that my Majesty, the King of France, has gifted me to you under the guise of these lessons,” Levi worried his lip between his teeth.

“But I don’t want -- I _can’t_ ,” his voice caught in his throat, humiliation for his whoredom and desperation for his safety choking him, “I can’t service you today, my King.”

Levi dropped his head low, and his shoulders hunched with the weight of bitter fear.

“Please forgive me, your Grace.”

Gray eyes dared to look through dark lashes upon the German again, silently pleading for mercy.

Levi’s voice sounded odd, such a harsh contrast to just a few moments ago when he was insulting Erwin, raging at him. It was soft, shy almost, playfully naive, and yet Erwin heard the admonishment. The way Levi addressed him made Erwin furrow his brows. Why was he a “dear King” now… None of this made any sense. Erwin just wanted to explain to Levi how important the correct posture was to play the piano…

And yet --

Erwin froze as the words reached him. Levi was under the impression that Erwin owned him, that the King of France had given him to the unwelcome guest as a gift to toy with however he saw fit.

Why would he think that? Had that been the case in the past? Was this learned behaviour?

Erwin pulled back his hand from Levi’s shoulder, a bit too quickly, maybe, as some of Levi’s hair tangled in the buttons on Erwin’s jacket, and he struggled to free himself.

“Master Levi… There is a misunderstanding. There is nothing to forgive you for.” Erwin spoke hastily while he untangled Levi’s hair.

“Neither has King Louis given you to me as a gift. Nor would I ever accept or take advantage of such a gift. I simply wanted to make you aware of how important this posture is,” he explained himself.

Erwin’s heart beat fast in his chest, and he blinked irritatedly as he eyed Levi, who sat there like an obedient dog, almost stripped of his human behaviour while he begged to be spared from Erwin’s hands.

“I want to teach you how to play the piano, if that is still your wish.” Erwin swallowed heavily.

“You will never have to service me in any way. And you shouldn’t have to do that for anybody else…” Erwin sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

“And I am sorry, deeply sorry, if you had to service people on the King’s order in the past.” Erwin muttered under his breath.

Voicing critique about the Sun King, questioning his actions and decisions, wasn’t a wise thing to do. Erwin could be considered a traitor if the wrong people heard his words, so why would he express his empathy for this young man he didn’t even know yet?

“Oh,” Levi loudly let go of the breath he held, “il doit vraiment y avoir un dieu [there truly must be a god].”

He straightened himself on the comfortable bench. The salt of relief burned his eyes, but he refused to let this merciful King see him weep again. His face crumbled into his palms as his elbows hit the piano keys, a chord of dissonance ringing through the music room. Just for a moment, Levi breathed slowly to steady himself, trembling fingers rubbing his lids roughly

While Erwin still tried to understand what just happened, why Levi had assumed Erwin would take advantage of him, he watched the young man in front of him. His body language was raw, pure, direct -- while Erwin, growing up as a prince, was always very aware of how to contain himself, how to not let his emotions show in situations where they were not needed. And he succeeded most of the time to present what was expected of him.

It was refreshing that Levi’s body, his gestures, his face, his mimic and voice were not a facade: no mask. At least not in this very moment, when he thanked God, and not as before, when he had begged Erwin for mercy.

Were all French people such actors?

So Levi learned that the King of Bavaria was a gentleman, not one to prey upon the weak or vulnerable. He grimaced to know he had revealed himself to be a glorified court whore, and yet, the German still treated him with the kind of respect any person deserved. This King saw him as human, not some bastard --

But then the young man’s body language changed again, and Erwin became worried for a moment.

Thin fingers fell from his face, hovering just above his collar bones. Ever so slightly, Levi’s eyes widened when it dawned on him that the only reason why the King of Bavaria treated him like a person who deserved even a sliver of dignity was because he did not know that Levi was the bastard son of the King of France.

Sniffling, he dropped his hands back into his lap before warily eyeing the King again. The man was tall with broad shoulders. The lines of his throat were as strongly defined as his jaw and hooked nose. Blue eyes watched Levi, their icy edges softened with tenderness. He was undeniably handsome. Levi burned with foolishness to think that a man of such refinement, power, and eliteness would ever dare to spare a second glance upon a person like himself -- a bastard whore -- if he had known him for what he was. The muscles of Levi’s slender throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Levi would never tell the King of Bavaria that he was a bastard for fear of losing this feeling of human equality, still so new to him when it came from a person outside of his closest friends.

But he feared for the reputation of this German if anyone at Versailles heard him speak such blasphemy as he had to Levi when he begged him to not have a taste of him.

Erwin’s eyes rested on Levi, gentle, maybe a bit interested in what was to come now. Levi had obviously done some thinking after his relief to know that Erwin wouldn’t be an enemy.

“Un mot pour les sages [a word to the wise],” Levi swung a leg over the bench to fully face the German as his voice lowered, “the walls of Versailles have ears; watch what you say around everyone. Well,” he paused, kisses of pink bright on his neck, “except for me.”

Levi watched the King break into a gorgeous, toothy grin.

Erwin wondered if Levi would truly be trustworthy. Only time would tell.

“I will watch my tongue then, and you’ll help me get more practise with this bloody awful language so my tongue will get more used to it… And hopefully I won’t need soap to get rid of my accent.”

The German threw his golden head back with laughter.

“If you heed my advice, my orange rind and goats’ milk soap bar would compliment your woodsy cologne well,” Levi glanced up at the King as he bit his lip, silently calculating how hard he would have to smash his forehead against the piano to lose consciousness in order to save himself from further self-inflicted embarrassment.

The man draped a strong hand over his shoulder, and Levi breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed how his pleasant voice was seemingly unaware of Levi’s quip.

His eyes fell to his socks. A scowl darkened his cheeks when he noticed a hole by his pinky toe: more evidence of his unworthiness to be in the pleasant company of the King of Bavaria. His spindly shoulders fell a bit before he fixed himself in front of the piano again, straightening himself to mimic the posture King Erwin had shown him.

“Très bon [very good]! You remember very well.” Erwin praised Levi, his right hand gently and affirmatively gripping his left shoulder.

“At lunch,” Levi cleared his throat as he regained the fullness of his composure, “I shall teach you my language.”

One corner of Levi’s lips lifted into a small lop-sided grin.

“Maybe I can show you how to conquer that shitty accent of yours.”

Erwin nodded.

“Now, I will assume you’ve never played the piano before, so we’ll start at the very beginning….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is here! Yay! 
> 
> We're making progress with the RP and there are a few more chapters that we're editing as of the moment <3 Stay tuned and make yourself comfy with this dramatic slow-burn.


	4. Premier Touche / Erste Berührung / First Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time flies as tender touches between King Erwin & Master Levi help them to forget about reality for a moment. But then they are faced with accepting the obligations their positions require of them.

The clouds of yesterday’s storm broke in places outside, and then Erwin told Levi about the structure of pianos; about their parts; about chords; about moll and dur; about the leading hand; the accompanying hand; about the way the sound traveled in a piano. As the music room filled with sun rays pouring through the arched windows, the King of Bavaria’s words were lost to Levi.

Erwin was very passionate about the piano, and he probably gave Levi a little bit too much input while he continued to walk around the instrument, played some keys here and there while his heavy accent just got faster as his eyes lit up. The German’s fingers trailed over the smooth edges of the white piano, stray locks of his yellow hair aglow with warm light. The cadence and lilt of his stories, dappled with flowing hands, laughter lines worn from enkindled smiles, blue eyes as rich as Farlan’s favorite tube of cobalt paint, were the finest symphony Levi ever had the privilege of being privy to. 

“But that’s enough theory… I’m sorry… This was… Awful,” Erwin sighed and then laughed again.

Some strands of his neatly parted hair fell out of place, and then his long fingers graced the keys beside Levi, coaxing notes from the polished keys.

“Put your right hand like this,” Erwin leaned over Levi’s shoulder and positioned his own hand on some keys.

Erwin pressed them down so that a gentle chord filled the room. Faded scars of rose and pink traced the King’s hand. Levi’s lips parted ever so slightly to see the kiss of so many battles on honeyed hands that he only knew to be gentle. Then Erwin pulled back his hand, and, when Levi raised his own, Erwin licked his lips.

A whisper of German tumbled from the man beside him.

“Wunderschöne Hände… [beautiful hands],” Erwin mumbled for a moment as he looked at the pale, soft skin covering unmarked hands and delicate fingers. 

Levi fumbled to copy the finger placement he was shown.

“Here, let me…” Erwin spoke gently, leaning over Levi and with both of his hands rearranging Levi’s fingers into a more comfortable position.

Levi’s heart leapt into his throat when the King leaned over him, his hand feather-light as he readjusted his position. Did Levi imagine those warm fingertips lingering for the breath of a moment longer than need be? 

“Good, now give it a try,” Erwin spoke encouragingly and slowly took away his hands, anticipating the sound that would follow.

Levi’s head shot up to look at the German, a triumphant smile flashing across his rudied cheeks when he played the chord correctly. Grey shards sparkled up at him, and the contrast to the tearful, angry, hurt expression from just a while ago was beautiful. Being able to get this smile from the young man, seeing the joy of someone learning something new, this honest, raw and pure emotion, was something that made Erwin’s heart beat faster.

Erwin’s father had taught him to be a just and gentle ruler, someone who would reign his people with passion and compassion rather than cruelty and fear. There had been many situations where Erwin had witnessed his father executing these values in front of him, and this moment right now almost felt like he had learned well from him. 

Master Levi had started their encounter with insults and rage. There were tears and screaming, a lot of underlying fear and problems. And now he gave Erwin one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen. Erwin answered with an evenly open smile.

“Très bon! [very good],” he spoke as he nodded. “Now, try to leave the spacing of your fingers just like that but move your hand three keys to the right,” Erwin guided his student.

He could see how focused Levi was, how he really listened and tried to fulfill his task…

With success! Another, slightly higher chord filled the room, and Erwin nodded approvingly as he placed his hand on Levi’s shoulder.

“Now, just go back and forth between these two position so you might be able to not look at the keys when repositioning your hands. Try to play each chord two or three times,” Erwin instructed Levi, his hand still resting on his right shoulder. 

“One, two, three. One, two three,” he counted and started to tap the rhythm on Levi’s shoulder.

As the chords slowly began to fill the room, Erwin leaned forward, his right hand still tapping the rhythm on Levi, and his left hand began to play a lighthearted melody along the chords Levi played. Awestruck, Levi’s pinky fumbled on the spacing between the keys, but he forced his fingers to recover quickly, focusing on the gentle tapping on his shoulder to steady himself. King Erwin’s fingers danced across the keys. No notes or sheets were required; he just came up with the tune as they went about it. Levi’s eyes flicked from his hand to the King’s as the music room filled with a song Levi hadn’t heard before. With lips softly parted, he dared a look at the German, a thin brow raised in astonishment for his raw talent.

Levi returned his attention to the piano. The tempo slowed, and Levi followed suit as the quick song came to an end. As Erwin brought the melody to a halt, a nice shiver went down his spine. This had been the closest to playing the piano with someone that he had done in years, and it was refreshing.

Levi’s leg swung over the piano bench, gray eyes taking in the sight of the King with a quiet gasp. 

“You -- your song was beautiful,” he breathed with a shake of his head. 

A raven tendril slipped over his shoulder. Nervous fingers gently raked through his curly tangles before he brought all of it over that shoulder. 

Levi’s compliment caused Erwin to share a shy smile in return. He knew he was good, but each and every compliment was appreciated.

“Je vous remercie [thank you]!” Erwin lowered his head a bit, and then he was examined with eager eyes.

“I’d, um, like to hear all about this,” Levi gestured to the piano and at the King before timidly looking up at him beneath dark lashes. “How did you learn to play like that, and what made you so passionate to keep practicing?” 

Levi wanted to know more about Erwin and the piano -- something nobody had been interested in in a while. Erwin’s smile widened, and some color came to his cheeks as he was about to find his words again. The King moved to speak, but Levi raised a slender hand between them. He was interrupted, just like that. A common person raising their hand to order a king to stop.

“Tell me over tea and lunch,” he swallowed before hopping onto his socks. 

Erwin widened his eyes as he closed his mouth again and swallowed his breath. He hadn’t been interrupted by anyone in a long time until the day before when the King of France had given him this very gesture. Was it a common thing in Versailles to interrupt people, regardless of their title?

Erwin just nodded. He indeed could use something to eat, and a cup of tea sounded nice as well. While he watched Master Levi put his riding boots back on, Erwin closed the buttons of his jacket again and made sure his collar was in place. Then he followed the young man through the corridors, his eyes soaking in all the rich decorations, all the lovely crafted and impressive details of each and every single piece in this place. 

The sun had made its way through the clouds, and soft rays of light soaked the whole palace in a gentle golden-orange glow. They passed people. The shadows of the elegant lords and ladies loomed over Levi and the King, who walked a step slower than himself, those striking eyes darting all about the grandeur of the palace. 

Some bowed their heads, probably aware of Erwin’s title. Others eyed them, interested, nosy almost, and Erwin heard hushed French whispers behind their backs. He wasn’t sure what they said, and he probably didn’t really want to know. But he didn’t have time to worry about the thoughts of random people that had no meaning in his life.

Would the short man of unknown position, however, whose dark locks moved gently as he led the way, have meaning in his life? 

Maybe.

For now he would keep up his guards and proceed with caution.

The vicious whispers around them scraped Levi raw, though, and every step past the few snobbish elite who adorned the halls darkened the scowl on Levi’s pale face. 

“. . . Wallowing in mud, like a pig. . .” A delicate lady’s voice tinkled behind a daintily raised hand.

A lord in finely tailored clothes chuckled, a sneer on his face as he bowed again to the King of Bavaria. 

“. . . associating with that boy whore?”

The Lord’s gaze followed the King as they passed him. The lady at his side giggled behind her hand. Levi stared at his riding boots, steeling his face against the rise of a blush while he cursed himself for not thinking about how his presence would impact the King’s reputation at Versailles. Rage for his own stupidity boiled at the base of his stomach, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

Racing footsteps echoed off of the walls. Levi looked up as the feet slowed to a stop in front of him. His servant, Eren, bowed deeply before him, loose chocolate curls spilling over his shoulders. Levi’s brows furrowed. The King of Bavaria came to stand beside him. Heads turned to stare at them; the three of them gathered at the center of the hallway. 

“Master Levi,” Eren bowed again, his cheeks flushed from running. “His Majesty has requested that you accompany today’s welcoming feast. He commands that you and the German King, who shall be recognized as the King of France’s guest, come to the dining hall immediately.” 

King Erwin was now a recognized guest in this palace, and he was invited to a gathering already. Time really flew in France. But why would a commoner like Levi be expected to be there? 

While Erwin was dressed appropriately for pretty much any occasion within these walls right now, he worried about the riding outfit his rather odd companion was still dressed in. And he seemed to think the same.

Levi reeled, the stench of stables -- usually so comforting to him -- making his nose wrinkle. A numb hand picked at flecks of mud on his trousers that had splattered, in some places, up to his hips. His face fell into his hands, and his fingers rubbed his cheeks red in frustration. Stomach churning, Levi sincerely regretted not following the German King’s order to retreat to his room to bathe before their piano lesson. 

“Baise moi [fuck me],” Levi growled as one hand fell from his face while the other swept through his hair. 

He turned on his heel to face the King of Bavaria. His shadowed eyes narrowed. 

“You didn’t tell me my King was throwing you a welcome party --” 

“-- No,” Eren spoke over Levi. 

Levi whipped around, shocked to hear Eren disrespectfully cut him off in front of the sparse yet still nosy gathering of the lesser members of the court. 

“The welcome feast is a last minute event for a Lady from the Far East,” Eren’s eyes fell to the floor as he meekly hung his head. 

“Thank you, Eren.” 

King Erwin also became more and more aware of how the presence of Master Levi might reflect negatively on him -- considering that they were invited to a welcome feast for a visitor from the Orient.

Levi nodded at his servant to dismiss him. The boy hurried off. Levi turned his back on Erwin and strode off in the direction they were headed before the servant had arrived. Silently, Erwin followed his hasty steps, although his long legs didn’t make him seem hurried at all. They reached an ornately carved door, and the ebb and flow of murmured conversation could be heard. Then, abruptly, Levi paused, his hand nervously clutching the gold handle. 

For a moment, those dark shards looked up at King Erwin, silently begging.

“I hope you won’t think less of me after this,” he breathed, his shoulders falling as he opened the door. 

Erwin straightened his shoulders. Why would he think badly of him? Because of his riding attire that might give the people present reason to talk about him? Maybe, but he had just fulfilled the duty the King had given him, and there was no shame in that. But still, he didn’t know who this man was and had a feeling that he was his student only to humiliate both of them.

A long table sat at the center of the massive room. Painted sets of porcelain cutlery were carefully set upon its lace tablecloth. The entire royal family had already been seated. Around them, the court spoke quietly amongst themselves, beady eyes hungrily eyeing the silver platters of steaming foods before the King of France. A single empty seat had been spared for one person. Across from it was the Lady from the Far East, her skin as pale as cream and her hair as black as night.

Levi bowed low and chewed his lip as he met his father’s eye. He brought himself to his full height, his chin rising only to the ears of the seated royal family. The King of France’s fat face pulled into a nasty sneer as he gestured for Levi to stand next to him. Levi glanced at the German beside him and grimaced before he went to his father’s side, a wrist clutched behind his thin back against his riding clothes. 

A servant approached Erwin and showed him to his place, right across the table from the beautiful young women from the Far East. There was chatter and conversations, but when Erwin was seated, the conversations near him came to a halt, eyes examining him. He stood out, just as the woman from the Orient, yet in a different way.

They both looked like they didn’t belong here.

Erwin tried to make eye contact with the people near him. He gave out friendly smiles and slight head bows as he tried to make out faces he might know. He felt uncomfortable, felt the pressure rising. This was unexpected, not what he had anticipated -- and Master Levi, standing next to the King of France, seemed to be in a very similar situation when Erwin laid his eyes upon him.

What was his role in all of this?

Levi kept his face as placidly neutral as possible. Once King Erwin looked away, Levi focused his attention on the wall across from him in hopes of avoiding the Queen’s glare. Sometimes he wondered if the look she gave him would also wilt plant life if she stared long enough. 

The King of France smiled at the German and the Lady across from him, his voice all spoiled milk and rotten honey to Levi’s ears as he introduced the King of Bavaria to Lady Mikasa of the Far East. The young woman, who appeared to be close to Levi’s age, nodded at the German politely, appraising everything around her. She gave Erwin a warm and gentle smile, but he could see the tiredness spilling from her dark shards as he replied with an evenly respectful and practiced nod. She wore a dark red, very Asian-looking robe with golden threads and beautiful ornaments. A headpiece, decorated with the same elements as her robe towered on long, thick, black hair. Her skin was pale, a different pale than Levi’s, though, and her eyes were beautiful.

Erwin hadn’t had any encounters with people from the Far East for a long time, and he found himself looking a bit longer than intended as she raised her eyebrows. She gave him a questioning smile before her attention belonged to the Queen of France.

The Queen, hair of pale braids haloed about her face with the help of pearl pins, spoke quietly to Lady Mikasa, and she responded with a heavy accent. Erwin found himself fascinated by the sound of her voice. Rich and light at the same time. He listened while his eyes wandered over the table, the cutlery, the people present, their jewelry, their accessories; this place was decorated with so many more luxurious and beautiful things than Erwin had seen at his parents’ palace.

Levi’s attention was drawn to the quiet click of the door behind him unlocking. His hackles raised when he recognized the heavy boot fall sauntering over to the other side of the King of France. Monsieur Kenny bowed low beside his King before he straightened himself, a hand clutching his wrist behind his back. His beady eyes glanced at Levi, who nervously tugged at the hem of his sleeve, a triumphant smirk wrinkling Monsieur Kenny’s greasy face as he returned his attention to the dining hall. 

After a few moments of idle chattering, kitchen maids entered the dining hall, their simple skirts dancing about their little feet as they served the table guests. Isabel waltzed into the room last, all smiles and meekness as her delicate hands collected used porcelain dishware. 

Just the smell of all the food being brought made Erwin aware of how hungry he actually was. His eyes wandered back to Master Levi who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. Erwin didn’t quite understand yet what his position in all this was or why he would stand next to the King without being served as well.

Once the Queen had shifted her attention to an elderly man next to her, Lady Mikasa addressed Erwin while he chewed on a piece of meat. Suddenly he started coughing and reached for some wine -- however, the people next to them didn’t eye him but rather the young Lady across from him.

She had addressed him in English, not in French. Her heavy accent still gave it an almost surreal sound.

What was she thinking? Did she want to provoke the King?

The feisty smile on her face said yes, and Erwin was more than willing to silently protest the way the King had tried to mock him.

“Oh yes, indeed. A beautiful palace and a very different court culture from what I’m used to,” Erwin replied, a bit rusty. His mind was all set on French since he had arrived here, and now switching to English, which he was way more practiced in speaking than French, caught him a bit off guard.

“That’s. . . An understatement, King Erwin, wouldn’t you think?” She grinned and breathed out amusedly. 

“Have you ever had your guest, who travelled literally for months, attend a welcome feast within hours after their arrival?” She asked, and her eyes wandered to the King of France.

Erwin wasn’t sure if the people around them could understand English well enough, so he shook his head.

“I thought so. I heard the German culture is very civilized and friendly. I would love to get to know more about your people, King Erwin.” She smiled and raised her glass.

Erwin furrowed his brows but then raised his glass as well.

“I’d be more than honored to help you get to know my culture better.” He agreed. “And I’d like to learn more about the Far East as well!” 

Erwin clinked their glasses together.

He felt eyes piercing them, heard people whispering in French. But there wasn’t only talk about the German and the Asian Lady; Levi’s name was spoken as well. However, Erwin didn’t fully understand everything -- mostly comments about his appearance -- and whenever Erwin looked back to his piano student, he just felt sorry for him. He looked worse by the minute: uncomfortable, displaced.

Levi did not hear any of the conversation happening in front of him as his fingers dug into his sliced up wrists, his nails pressing the stained bandages into his angry cuts. He was vaguely aware of his name being spoken amongst the people a few times. But he was hyper aware of Monsieur Kenny as he casually chuckled along with his King, ever polite and gentlemanly when in the presence of the master of his leash. 

There was some meaningless chatter with other people around the King of Bavaria, mostly people expressing their condolences about his father’s death and the lost battle. Erwin nodded, thanked, and re-assured he would get back his kingdom. But the words choked him, the food started to taste awful, his smile faded. He related more and more to Levi, who looked so distressed that Erwin just wanted to grab him and drag him back to the music room. The smile on his face and the sparkle in his eyes when he played a few chords had been wonderful, and seeing him like this now was depressing.

The other kitchen maids had finished their jobs in the dining hall and had pattered out of the room when Isabel picked up a final small dish. Arms full of cutlery and such, she winked at Levi as she steadied herself. Then she moved to take her leave. As she passed Levi, the King’s hand shot out to grab her, a meaty fist clamping over her thin wrist. Levi froze, eyes wide as the King reeled her in closer to him. 

“Leave a plate of scraps for the dog,” he commanded Isabel.

Her brows raised, cheeks flushed. Conversation died down. 

“T-the dog,” she stammered, eyes darting about the room to search for an animal she had yet to notice. 

There was no dog, and Erwin held his breath for a moment. 

“Yes, the bitch beside you,” the King’s lips curled, his head cocked towards Levi.

And all Levi wanted to do, in that moment, was sink into the cracks between the floorboards when Isabel gaped at them like a fool. The King degraded him in the worst possible way. Why? Erwin didn’t understand -- yet -- he was in shock.

“Yes, sir,” she nodded vigorously as she reorganized the stack of plates in her arms. “Of course, your Grace.”

Erwin took a deep breath as his eyes widened. Isabel avoided meeting Levi’s eyes while their King directed his conversation back to Lady Mikasa. 

“I hope you find your stay at Versailles comfortable. If you are ever in need of anything, we have many servants who would be quite pleased to be at the beck and call of such a rare beauty like yourself.” 

Trembling hands held out a plate of half-eaten food for Levi to take, a set of used silverware placed on the edge of the porcelain. 

“Master Levi shall be at your service as well. Yes, he is not the embodiment of mighty French beauty by any means, no, but, he has been broken and trained well to please our guests’ every whim,” King Louis smiled pleasantly.

Erwin gulped heavily. This King was abusive, abusive beyond anything Erwin had ever experienced. A cold shiver ran down his spine and bile rose up. This was sick, sick and twisted. Cruel. What had Levi done to get treated like this?

Before Levi could accept the plate of food from Isabel, it slipped from her numb fingers and shattered on the floor. 

The sound caused “oooh no’s” from some ladies and muffled laughter from some men. But someone else got everyone’s attention real quick as the chair they moved made a scratching noise.

“My King… If you’ll excuse me. I had a very, very long journey. I was seated at my own welcome feast without any rest, and now I am getting offered a human being?” Lady Mikasa spoke as she rose from her chair. 

“Thank you for having and welcoming me, my King. But I’ll need to rest now,” she curtsied and then was off.

Erwin blinked, irritated, and so were other guests. People started to whisper, murmur, and Erwin decided to empty his glass while gesturing to a servant for a refill.

Where would this all lead?

Eyes narrowed, Kenny watched Lady Mikasa curtsey shallowly before she strode from the room, her regal chin set high as the red silk of her Asian gown billowed behind her. His lip curled, sneering, when the dining hall door slammed shut after her. 

The green of Isabel’s eyes held Levi, her lips gently parted as if she were at a loss for words. His head shook once, tangled bangs brushing his forehead as he silently begged her to not even dare to breathe about what just happened. 

“My word,” whispered the King of France, the fork in his hand clattering onto the plate before him. 

‘My word, indeed,’ Levi thought to himself; he had never seen another person openly defy his father. Well, anyone other than himself. 

He liked the balls on that one. 

Kenny slithered in between Levi and Isabel, shoving her thin shoulder hard enough to make her stumble backwards. Levi’s jaw dropped, panic making him freeze. Isabel’s rosy cheeks paled as Kenny raised his hand above her head. The resounding slap echoed off of the tall walls.

“Petulant child,” Kenny hissed. “Can’t even feed a dog right.”

Trembling fingertips traced the edges of the stinging welt painted across Isabel’s delicate face, a drop of blood kissing her broken bottom lip. 

“Clean this mess up,” Kenny spat on the wrinkled hem of her skirt. 

Levi was red with rage.

“No,” he shrieked until his throat became raw before he threw himself into Kenny’s back. 

Kenny spun around as Levi thrashed his shaking fists against the steely muscles in front of him. But before he knew it, Kenny knocked him onto the ground, the worn sole of his boot pressing into the tender hollow of Levi’s neck. Spluttering for air and squirming beneath the strength of the guard, spots of unconsciousness burst about his vision. He flailed and reached for the knife in his breast pocket, the one he had used to tear himself open just that night. With a flick of his wrist, the short blade was drawn, and he slammed it into the toe of Kenny’s boot. The knife barely sunk it, its tip striking the metal toe before it could reach his foot. 

Kenny howled with anger. Levi smashed the ball of his palm against the soft part of Kenny’s knee, breaking the strength of his stance on his throat. Rolling out from under him, Levi jolted towards Isabel as Kenny tore his pocket knife from his boot. 

White knuckles gripped Isabel’s bicep as Levi yanked her back onto her feet. Slinking his arm around her waist, he ran with her out of the dining hall through the servants’ entrance.

It was all over within a matter of seconds.


	5. Vin de Prune / Pflaumenwein / Plum Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi flees from the truth while Erwin has an intimate encounter that may change his position at Versailles.

Erwin stood there, watching, trying to understand what just had happened, his breath shaky as he felt anger, frustration, irritation , and shock  \-- what was happening at this place?

Levi guided Isabel through the winding servant passageways at an unrelenting pace; when his exhausted legs couldn’t sprint, he jogged, all the while clutching Isabel’s shaking shoulders against his side. He dared not take them through the main hallways of Versailles for fear of seeing the glint of Kenny’s steely eyes stalking them from the shadows of great grandeur. 

***

  
  


“Die haben nicht alle Tassen im Schrank hier. [They all have a screw loose here] ,” Mike sighed as he poured some tea for his  K ing.

Erwin had just given him a summary of the events at the lunch that Erwin had excused himself from after  Monsieur  Kenny  \-- who se name he now knew  \--  was sent off to “remind  Master  Levi of his place .” 

Erwin leaned back with a sigh as his cold fingers touched the hot teacup. It was starting to get colder again after the sun had disappeared. Fall was about to roll over the land , and Erwin would make sure that Armin would always have a fire going in his room.

***

The iciness of Levi’s stomach would not let him forget that he would be forced to face Kenny again. 

The seconds bled into breathless minutes before they finally found themselves at the threshold of Farlan’s studio, where he enjoyed spending the afternoons painting away in the fading golden light. Levi didn’t bother to knock, opting to kick the unlocked door open. A smear of mud from his boot plastered against the fine door. 

The two walls opposite of each other were nothing more than tall arched windows, their lacy drapes tied back by sashes of ribbon. A desk, littered with corked ink bottles and lengths of fine charcoal, had been pushed up against the wall across from the entrance to make room for Farlan. The lanky artist stood at the center of the room, a cherrywood easel angled just right so its fabric canvas caught the sunlight. At Farlan’s hip sat a side table that held his jars of rich paints. The familiar smell of almond oil was almost comforting to Levi. 

The entrance door banged against the wall. Farlan whipped around, nearly dropping his long brush. Levi strode into the room. He shut the door behind them with another kick. 

“Cher dieu [dear god],” Farlan whispered as he set his brush down. “Qu'est-ce qui t'es arrivé [what the hell happened to you]?” 

He hurried over to them, gingerly peeling Isabel off of Levi. 

***

“Do you have any interesting events to talk about ,” Erwin asked and sipped the steaming liquid.

“Könnte man so sagen, ja. [One could say so, yes],” Michael breathed as Erwin gestured to him to sit on the stool next to him and also have some tea.

“Well, then speak.” Erwin demanded  in a friendly tone.

“Your piano student, the bitch of the  K ing, indeed has a special position and place in this palace. He’s the only one of his kind to be here.”  Michael  started with a smirk as he poured himself some tea , and Erwin furrowed his brows as he tried to follow  his riddle.

“Continue…” Erwin nodded and took another sip from the cup.

***

“Isabel dropped a plate at lunch, and a guard slapped her,” Levi spoke through gritted teeth. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, his arms aching with their emptiness; all he wanted to do was hold Isabel against his chest to comfort her. Taking care of her was a welcome distraction from the dread of Kenny’s vengeance setting into his bones. Isabel caught his eye, her brows shooting up into her hairline. 

“Farlan, I dropped the plate because I was in shock to hear that the King whores Levi out to the Court,” Isabel shrieked. 

“Ferme ta gueule [shut the fuck up],” Levi hissed. 

Farlan’s eyes widened ever so slightly as his arms fell from Isabel, her arms wrapping around her trembling sides. He took a step closer to Levi, keeping his face unreadable. 

“Does this have anything to do with the bandages on your wrists,” Farlan said quietly. 

Levi’s jaw dropped. 

“I saw you fidgeting with them this morning while we were out riding.” 

Isabels’ eyes flickered from Farlan to settle on Levi. 

***

“He’s called  ‘ Master Levi ’ because  ‘ Prince Levi ’  would be incorrect and offensive to the Queen.”  Michael’s grin  grew  as he raised his teacup , and Erwin widened his eyes.

“He’s a bastard child of the  K ing?” Erwin gasped as he put down his tea.

Michael nodded. “He indeed is: the first and only bastard child of a king of France to live with the royal family. The King has a special liking for him \-- or more . . . He used to have a special liking for his mother. That’s why he’s allowed to live here,” Michael explained.

Erwin began to see why all the things that had happened today had happened.

***

_ Riding _ . Levi’s fingers itched to be tangled in Kuchel’s gorgeous mane. His legs ached to feel the strength of her beneath him, galloping as hard as she could through the woods to take him somewhere far away. Levi looked to the orange horizon through the window only to see the ghost of his reflection staring back at him. 

“I have to get the fuck out of Versailles tonight,” Levi returned his attention to Farlan. 

A muscle in Farlan’s clenched jaw twitched. His blond brows pressed together. 

“You know you can talk to us,” he pleaded. His hand gripped his friend’s shoulder. Levi shrugged him off. His riding boots took him to the west window, trembling fingers pushing it open. 

“Not right now,” he called behind himself as he climbed through the window. 

“Levi,” Isabel yelled after him, but he was already sprinting through the gardens for the stables. 

***

“How did you learn about all this,  Michael ?” Erwin asked , and a long breath followed.

“One of the stable boys is a close friend of Levi but also seems to make art in the palace  \--  as I said ,  everyone here’s a bit strange .  Master Levi seems to prefer the company of the commoners here over the nobles and rich guests. After what you told me happened today, I  d on’t blame him.”  Michael sighed.

And neither would Erwin, who ran a hand across his face. King Louis was making him teach his bastard son the piano. He degraded him in front of everyone, everyone who looked down upon Levi. Why would he even have a bastard son around him? Why mock his queen and above all. . . Why keep him here and then treat him like _that_?

***

Fresh straw crunched beneath Levi’s feet as he slowed down, young stableboys busily cleaning out the stalls. 

“Master Levi,” one such child came to his side, bowing deeply. “The King’s guard, Monsieur Kenny Ackerman, came here looking for you.” 

Levi felt the color drain from his face. 

“Thank you,” he nodded to dismiss the stablehand. 

He rushed to Kuchel’s stall and mounted her, not even bothering with her tack; he was an excellent bareback rider. Cooing softly into her twitching ear, Levi urged her out of the stable. Once free, they bolted towards the woods. 

***

A sudden knock on the door ripped Erwin out of his thoughts.

“Come in.” Erwin spoke , and Armin entered.

“King Erwin, excuse my interruption. Lady Mikasa requested you to join her for dinner today after her rest. She would welcome you in her chambers and  . . . ”  H e hesitated for a moment before he cleared his throat . “And she won’t take  ‘ no ’ for an answer .”

A pained smile ran across his face as he murmured to  Michael , “Hier sind wirklich alle verrückt… [Indeed everyone here is crazy] ,” before he nodded to Armin. “Let her know I’ll be there.”

***

  
  


Abstract candle light filled the corridors as Erwin followed Lady Mikasa’s invitation after he had reste d for a bit. It was exhausting to be  at Versailles, and all the events that took place so far drained his energy. It wasn’t only her demand to have dinner with him, it was also curiosity that made him follow Armin with Michael by his side through the corridors. He wanted to know what the invitation was all about. 

The dimensions of this palace were beyond anything Erwin had ever seen , and it made him wonder what price the people of France had to pay. He also  noticed that the wing that he was placed in was far less impressive than the wing where other royal guests  lived, and that meant something since the luxury and details became almost absurd.

Armin came to a halt in front of a door and knocked. In a language that Erwin didn’t know, but definitely one from the Far East,  Armin raised his voice , and a young maid opened the door.  S ome words were exchanged before Armin turned to Erwin and Michael.

“You may enter. Lady Mikasa will join you in a moment ,”  he spoke as he bowed and then was on his way.

Erwin immediately picked up the sweet scents in the air , and Michael  furrowed his brows as he sniffed wh en they entered the chambers.

“If you would please follow me, King Erwin?”  T he maid asked with a heavy accent in English . Bowing, she  guided them through the entrance area to an adjoining room where a richly decorated table  waited for them.

“Lady Mikasa will allow your close servant to sit at the table with you, my King.”  S he said as she showed them their places. How was she aware of Erwin’s company? Oh well, Levi had already warned him that this palace had ears and eyes everywhere.

Erwin was seated at one end of the table, right across from where Lady Mikasa would sit probably. Michael was seated to his right , and just as they sat down, a door opened . T he woman from the Far East entered. Erwin and Michael both got up from their chairs again and greeted her with a bow.

“Thank you for having us, Lady Mikasa.” Erwin spoke in French , and she breathed out amused ly .

“Please, King Erwin, I’d much prefer to converse in English with you. Please sit.”  S he said with a smile as her maid helped her with her long robes . S he sat down across the table from Erwin.

She had changed into a less luxurious but nevertheless beautiful Asian-looking robe with n o headpiece but , instead,  a rich necklace and bracelets.

“As you prefer, just be aware that Michael, my best friend and close advisor, will be able to understand everything we speak then. Although he doesn’t speak French, he’s fluent in English and Czech.” Erwin let her know as he and Michael sat down again.

“Good, at least we won’t have to do acrobatics with our tongues to please the  K ing of this land  \-- although there might be other situations I wouldn’t mind challenging my tongue.”  S he spoke as she lowered her voice and gave Erwin an intense look. Erwin blinked a bit irritated for a moment as he watched her bite her lower lip.

Michael next to him chuckled , and Erwin furrowed his brows.

“Sie steht auf dich. [She’s into you] ,” Michael murmured under his breath ,  and Erwin’s eyes widened as he pulled back his head a bit.

That was sudden and definitely not what Erwin had expected when coming here. But then again, he didn’t really know what to expect at all. And this was the first person in this place who could be a mighty ally, so why not play along ?

“That’s… good to know, Lady Mikasa ,” h e offered her as a reply with a warm smile , and she ordered her maid to pour wine.

“To our …  F riendship , then? May it bloom and blossom into a rich relationship ,”  she said as she  raised her glass , and Erwin and Michael followed.

“It’s plum wine from the Far East, rich in flavor and strong. Just as my people ,”  she explained as she could see Michael sniffing  at the dark liquid before taking a sip.

Erwin waited, let Michael taste the wine : a habit that most royals would show when having private encounters with new people. Poison was the weapon of women , and every private invitation had to be observed with caution. Everyone remained silent for a moment, all eyes resting on Michael , who had his eyes closed and didn’t show any signs of strange behaviour.

“It’s strong, indeed, and very rich in flavor ,”  he finally spoke as he opened his eyes again and nodded towards Erwin.

“Then let us enjoy this dinner ,” Erwin spoke with a smile as he now also raised his glass and tried the wine.

His eyes observed the woman as her delicate fingers went about their business with soft motions. Her body looked soft yet strong below the light fabrics . H er face was beautiful. She was a different kind of beauty than what Erwin was used to , and he felt a certain attraction towards her.

***

“You Germans really are something different ,” Lady Mikasa chuckled, her pale cheeks tinted with a soft red as glass after glass of the strong wine had been emptied by everyone present during the dinner.

Michael seemed to be the most sober , but Erwin and the  L ady present definitely did have a bit too much. Over food and drinks they had talked about life in the Far East, about cultural differences, family values, royal duties. It was refreshing, pleasant , and Erwin enjoyed her company a lot. Her voice had a nice sound to it , and she was overall beautiful to look at. What she had to say was interesting , and the further their dinner progressed, the less they cared about the critique they addressed regarding King Louis. Michael was here, Lady Mikasa’s maid was here. She looked like she was from the Orient as well, so Erwin assumed she had the Lady’s trust.

“How he degraded that young man today, it was… I am…  T his is outrageous!”  S he made a wide gesture. “Offering a human being against their will for fun and entertainment…  I n the Far East we do have people that make a good living by offering…  S pecial services, but it’s voluntary , and these people are valued and respected ,” s he explained and took a sip from her glass.

“Have you ever been with someone from the Far East?”  S he then asked as she looked Erwin right in the eyes , and he almost spit out his wine again as he coughed.

Michael smirked under his mustache as Erwin put down his glass.

“I have not ,”  Erwin spoke. “This is the first time I’m enjoying dinner with someone from so far away and as beautiful as you are, Lady Mikasa.” Erwin offered her a friendly smile.

“And do you…  E njoy yourself so far?”  S he asked and pressed her lips together.

“Very much so ,”  Erwin admitted.

“Then let’s repeat this. Come here tomorrow again. Just you. Give your close friend some time off ,  and I’ll gladly explore more German culture while introducing you to mine.”  S he smirked.

Erwin blinked irritated ly , Michael tilting his head  slightly to the side as Erwin cleared his throat.

“I would like that very much ,”  he agreed.

“Very well . T hen I shall await your arrival tomorrow again. Sleep well then, both of you ,”  she said as she rose from her chair , and Erwin and Michael also stood up.

“Thank you for the food and the wine, Lady Mikasa. We shall see each other again tomorrow.” Erwin bowed ,  and Michael followed as she left  for the adjoining room again.

Erwin’s head felt dizzy . H is legs were shaky , and he could definitely feel the heat of the alcohol in his cheeks.

“Was zur Hölle passiert hier [What the fuck is happening here] ?” Erwin sighed after the maid had seen them out.

“Ich habe keine Ahnung, aber du solltest mitspielen, wer weiß wozu es gut ist. [I have no fucking idea , but you should play along…  Y ou never know what it might be good for] ,”  Michael spoke as he patted Erwin’s shoulder , and the two  men walked back towards their rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello & welcome to the New Year.   
> *No*, we don't ship Mikasa x Erwin (what would that ship name even be? -- Mikwin or Erasa lmao).   
> However, we think that their dynamic in this setting *as adults* gives us interesting plot opportunities. What do you guys think?


	6. Promesses et Mains / Versprechen und Hände / Promises and Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi can't escape his reality but Erwin shows him never before known empathy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this absolutely mindblowing [Art Commission for Touche de Désir by varrix ](https://shippingeruri.tumblr.com/post/641848175244738560/the-incredible-varrix-did-it-again-and-im-blown)

That evening, Erwin managed to pay a visit to his mother. She had been tucked away in a quiet area of the palace, and her time, since they had arrived here, had mainly consisted of sleeping and the maids trying to feed her. Armin had reported that the doctors weren’t sure what exactly caused this condition. But Erwin was almost sure that the events of the past weeks took a heavy toll on her.

One of the maids had let him enter his mother’s rooms. She laid on her bed. Pillows helped her sit upright while her breath was deep and slow, eyes closed, only opening when she heard footsteps approach. When her eyes met her son’s, she managed to smile -- just slightly before she let her head sink back into the pillows again with a sigh.

“Mutter, wie geht es dir [Mother, how are you]?” Erwin asked as he slowly approached her.

“Es ging mir schon besser, mein lieber Sohn. [I’ve been better, my dear son],” she sighed and gestured for Erwin to hand her some water.

The maids understood that they wanted some privacy and saw themselves out.

“King Erwin, please ring the bell if you need us,” one of them spoke as she bowed and closed the door behind them.

Erwin carefully sat down on the edge of his mother’s bed, the mattress gently dipping below his weight as he reached for the cup on the nightstand and handed it to his mother. She looked horrible; she was covered in cold sweat; she had lost weight. Yet she managed to look at her son with so much love.

“How are things going here? I’m sorry that I’m putting all these responsibilities on your shoulders…” She spoke before she took a sip.

“It’s… Quite different from what I’m used to.” Erwin spoke honestly but didn’t want to worry his mother too much. “But I’ll manage. Don’t worry. I want you to recover quickly…” He said and took the cup from her hand.

“Du bist so ein guter Junge… dein Vater hat dich gut erzogen. [You’re such a good boy… Your dad raised you right.]” She smiled and sighed.

There was a moment of silence between them, and Erwin pressed his lips together as he lowered his head.

“I miss him… I miss him so much.” Erwin almost whispered as he felt emotions piling up that wanted to burst out.

“And I miss him too…” His mother whispered as she put her hand on Erwin’s and, with teary eyes, smiled at him. “We have to make sure to recl--” She interrupted herself and shook her head. “You have to promise me to get his body. I want to give him a proper funeral.” She urged her son, and Erwin nodded as he gulped heavily.

“Ich verspreche es. [I promise.]”

***

The afternoon sun dipped below the tree line, casting the woods into twilight’s shadow. Levi had long since dismounted from Kuchel’s back and stiffly trudged deeper and deeper through the thickening underbrush. His breath came out in smoky puffs from the cold. Every once and awhile, a pang of guilt hit him when he felt Kuchel shiver beside him as he led her into a small clearing.

Young trees were sparse about the muddy area. Trampled brown leaves already had traces of Autumn frost on their fragile edges. They crunched beneath Kuchel’s hoofs as she worked to make herself comfortable with Levi’s coaxing before he, too, settled onto the cold ground. He didn’t dare to scrounge up even the smallest fire because he desperately did not want to be found tonight. Instead, he snuggled closer to Kuchel as she nuzzled her nose against his neck. Her steady breaths and quiet noises lulled Levi into a sleep as deep as death.

***

A gunshot boomed, jolting Levi awake. The smell of burnt gunpowder burned his nose as Kuchel jumped up. Levi’s back slammed onto the muddy ground when his horse reared and kicked and trotted around him, snorting angrily. Heavy bootfall made its way into the clearing, a tongue viciously ordering Kuchel to shut the fuck up.

Levi froze. After tucking his pistol back into its holster, Monsieur Kenny grabbed a fistful of his horse’s mane. She shrieked and whinnied and tried to jerk away from his strong hands while he worked a muzzle onto her. Then he dragged her to the nearest tree trunk to tie her up. When Monsieur Kenny turned his back to him, Levi thought about running as fast as his exhausted legs could carry him, but all he could really do was numbly watch hell unfolding before him; he couldn’t just leave Kuchel alone with that monster. He was afraid Monsieur Kenny would kill her.

Then he whipped around to face Levi, a nasty smile creasing his greasy face. He flicked a loose tendril over his shoulder before he strode to where Levi was still huddled down in the mud. Monsieur Kenny’s knees creaked as he sunk to his level.

“I thought last night had reminded you of who you are, Master Levi,” he spoke as smooth as whiskey. Monsieur Kenny clicked his tongue, shaking his head in pity of the boy before him.

“Pray, tell me, child,” his beady eyes held Levi in place, “how should I teach you manners?”

“Please,” Levi whispered, his glossy eyes wide, chapped lips trembling. A hiccup shook Levi’s shoulders.

He had run to the deepest part of the woods in search of one peaceful night alone, but he was a fool for thinking he could ever hide from who he was. A tear kissed his cheek when he hiccupped again. He was a fool for thinking he could ever outrun the King of France’s fury.

Monsieur Kenny’s thin brows furrowed. His hand gingerly rose before him, their hot breath fogged in the space between them. Levi flinched away when Monsieur Kenny cupped his splotchy cheek. A calloused thumb brushed the salt away, and Levi swore he saw tenderness flicker behind those bloodshot eyes.

“Sometimes in the dark,” Monsieur Kenny breathed as he inched ever closer to Levi, “I could mistake you for _her_.”

Delicately, his fingertips graced the length of his trembling jaw before stroking the bobbing muscles of Levi’s throat.

“And it hurts to look upon you,” Monsieur Kenny snarled.

His hand choked Levi. He thrust him onto his back. Spluttering, Levi struggled in the mud as Monsieur Kenny crawled on top of him and wedged his knee between his thrashing legs. Scarred fingers tore the waist of Levi’s dirty trousers. Monsieur Kenny howled with laughter at the bloodied bandages wrapped around Levi’s thighs as he ripped them off as well. A palm pressed his hip into the icy mud. Monsieur Kenny prepared himself, and Levi stopped wriggling like the wretched worm he knew himself to be.

Monsieur Kenny savagely took him, all the while pressing his face into the frost. It smelled of winter and decay and all things that crawled in filth.

“You murdered _her_.” Yellowed teeth bit and bruised his shoulders and neck.

Hot seed filled Levi again and again before Monsieur Kenny found his end. He wiped at the mud on his uniform before he left the crumpled whore in the dead leaves. Levi knew his blood had been spilt, and he wondered at the beating he felt in his chest.

How could it keep going when he did not want to anymore? It felt like a betrayal.

Levi stayed still, his nostrils crusted with mud from where his cheek was smashed into the ground. He blinked slowly, staring at nothing. And yet, he found it within himself to suck in another bitter lungful. Then, he couldn’t stop himself from quietly humming all that he could remember of that German King’s piano song in hopes that the memory of his kind hands and crinkly smile would ease the aching in his bones and heart and being.

***

The next morning was just as gray as the one before. Breakfast was shared with Michael, and Armin let Erwin know that he was expected to teach Master Levi the piano every day from now on. Erwin wondered what had happened to him after the events at the welcome party. So many things had occurred that Erwin didn’t fully understand, and he might never understand how humans could treat one another like that.

Bastard son or not, nobody should be mocked in front of guests like that, especially not the King’s own flesh and blood. Yet Levi had warned him before they entered, had asked him to not think less of him…

If anything at all, Erwin thought higher of Levi than before because this kind of situation seemed to be something the bastard prince was quite used to, and it was awful. Erwin felt sorry for him.

He arrived early at the music room again, and, just as the day before, he sat down to play some tunes on his own as he waited for his student.

***

It was the peculiar sound of birds hopping about bowing branches that roused Levi awake. He blinked the sleep from his eyes. Dappled cloud light shone through the dying leaves that swayed and swooshed above his head. And, as he propped himself up onto one elbow, he could have cried simply because he felt his heart still beating in his chest.

Life was cruel like that.

But it was the emptiness so deep inside of his bones that kept him from weeping. Besides, he needed to focus on getting Kuchel back to the stables so she could have water and be spoiled with oats and apples and carrots and all things good. It was for her and her alone that he rose from the mud, his skinned hands picking off dried pieces of debris from his mottled shins and thighs and hips.

His skin was raw and tight from his cuts. He cringed when he saw his bloodied linen bandages trampled in the mud a bit aways from him, their frayed edges brilliant with frost. All he could do was ignore the aching of his sliced up flesh. His chipped teeth worried his lip when he realized that his riding trousers had been torn at the waist and were untiable now.

With one hand, he pinched the fabric together to keep it from falling around his ankles. Every movement was a keen reminder of his bruises. Embarrassment colored his cheeks when he felt pricks of dried blood still clinging to the bite marks on his neck and collarbones and shoulders. He worked to flick his collar up as high as it would go before he made his way over to poor Kuchel.

Levi’s hands shook as he unbound her from the tree before working to free her from that monster’s muzzle. He tossed it into the clearing and guided Kuchel out of the woods, too sore to ride her back to the stables.

The sky’s grayness stole color away from everything but Versailles. Even now, as Levi trudged through the garden paths, the palace’s beauty could not be lost on him. And it stood, the symbol of all things powerful in France, to remind him of the nothingness that was his place in the world.

Hay crunched beneath Levi’s riding boots. A young stablehand rushed towards him with wide eyes.

“Maître Levi, ça va? Dois-je envoyer chercher le docteur Hannes? [Master Levi, are you alright? Should I send for Doctor Hannes?]”

Levi thrust Kuchel’s reins into the boy’s outstretched hands as he shook his head, disheveled curls falling over his shoulders.

“Non, mais merci. [No, but thank you].” His steely eyes narrowed. “Ne dites à personne que j'étais ici. [Do not tell anyone that I was here].”

The stablehand swallowed and nodded before Levi crept into the shadows.

Jogging, he kept close to the outside walls of Versailles, his body screaming in protest as he ducked beneath the tall windows to avoid being seen. Since the clouds were dense enough to block out the sun completely, he could not tell what time it was. Dread shook him over the possibility that he had missed his piano lesson with King Erwin already.

But it did not take him long to find the familiar arched windows of the music room. Through the glass panes, he heard piano keys tinkling. A sigh of relief escaped his lips; it was not too late.

The back of his throat burned with bile at the thought of how the King of Bavaria might react to his sorry composure.

Trembling fingers pushed the window open.

Erwin was surrounded by nothing but the gentle tones of music. His mind was at peace. His eyes closed as his fingers wandered over the ivory keys. He was just present.

Levi kept a firm grip on the waist of his trousers as he jostled a foot through the window and crept into the music room. The toe of his other boot caught the frame. Gasping, his stomach lurched when he fell onto the wood floor with a heavy thud that shook everything around him.

For Erwin, his rare moment of calmness was suddenly interrupted, and he forced his focus back to the present time and place. With widened eyes he froze when he saw someone -- in fact, his student -- getting up from the floor again.

Levi groaned and struggled to scramble onto his feet while keeping a good hold on his pants.  
He was painfully aware that the music had abruptly stopped, but he didn’t even look at the King nestled before the piano; Levi bowed so low the tip of his nose almost brushed the floor.

Erwin’s stomach felt as heavy as a stone when he saw the grand gesture Levi offered: a deep bow that probably not even the king of France had seen before.

“Please forgive me for my tardiness and -- and for everything, King Erwin.” Levi winced ever so slightly as he straightened himself. He swallowed, color kissing up his bruised and bitten neck as he kicked the toe of his boot into the floor.

“But I must beg of you a favor.” A hiccup broke his voice.

Erwin sat there, frozen, just observing and listening to what Levi had to say.

Levi kept his glassy eyes low still, not daring to look at the King for fear of what he may see on his face. Instead, he bowed again while he hurriedly spoke.

“I know this is such a fucked up thing to ask, your Grace.” He silently cursed himself for hiccuping again before trying to force more words through his thick throat. “I just -- I just don’t know what else to do. I know I need to clean up, but I’m afra -- I _can’t_ go back to my rooms right now.”

At that moment, Levi wasn’t so sure what he was more fearful of anymore: running into Monsieur Kenny waiting for him in his rooms or what the King of Bavaria might think of his question. His teeth bit his lip so hard it was a marvel he hadn’t tasted blood yet.

A cold shiver ran down Erwin’s spine as he started to find an explanation for the miserable condition Levi was in.

“I would forever be indebted to you if you allowed me to take a bath in your quarters.” A hiccup shook Levi’s shoulders, but he refused to break his bow.

Erwin gulped heavily as the words poured from Levi’s lips. They sounded fragile like glass, and Levi’s whole posture looked like he was about to drown in a hole in the ground. He was in anything but a good condition, and Erwin understood how much it must have taken Levi to ask such a favor.

Hastily, with a deep breath, Erwin rose from the bench, closed the wooden cover over the ivory keys, and, with just two big steps, he was next to Levi. The King of Bavaria went to a knee before the bastard son of the King of France. His hand, scarred by untold battles and yet still so infinitely strong, gripped Levi’s shoulder as he spoke into the hush between them.

“I cannot imagine the horrors that you have to live through in this place, and I am deeply sorry for your hardship.” He said before he offered Levi a hand.

Levi dared to raise his head, dared to meet the gaze of eyes that had seen hell rise up and claim his homeland -- and his father. But those blues softened when they caught traces of cloud light. His lips bubbled over with an empathy Levi hadn’t ever hoped to know. Hiccuping, he took the King’s hand and allowed himself to gently be brought to his side.

Could King Erwin feel the kiss of frost on Levi’s fingertips still? Because all Levi felt was his heartbeat pounding in his hand as he clung to that King like he was the golden rock he had found amidst crashing storm waves. Those fingers that gracefully danced across the piano never fell from his own.

This young man had to go through so much here… Just because of who his father was. And then, the old fat King didn’t even treat him with respect, although it was his wish to keep his bastard here.

Nobody deserved to be treated like that. Nobody.

And Erwin was determined to be a good friend for the first person inside these walls that might become someone he could trust.

People eyed them as the tall, blond German led the dirty, unpresentable bastard son of the King along the hallway, but Erwin didn’t care. Levi, chewing his lip to keep himself quiet, cursed his incessant hiccups as if _they_ were the reason the lords and ladies, the vultures of the court, watched them with bewildered eyes. No, it wasn’t the fact that Levi clutched his torn pants with his other hand to keep them on his bruised and bloodied hips. No, it wasn’t the fact that he was caked in frozen mud up to his red ears. No, he swore it wasn’t because of the dead leaves clinging to his matted curls. It was the _hiccups_ that drew everyone’s attention, he whispered to himself over and over again until they reached King Erwin’s rooms.

The King strode through the not-so-grand doors. Levi’s stomach dropped when the German’s fingers slipped from his own as he went to ring for his servant. While they waited for no more than a few moments, Levi took in everything about the front chamber, breathing in the faint smell of the King’s very much not French cologne.

Levi recognized the young boy who fluttered into the King’s chambers: Armin, blond and as sharp as a whip. Isabel told Levi and Farlan about the grand stories the little servant would ramble on about late into the night, chattering on about the bedtime stories he always gave to the even younger stablehands.

“Can you please start a bath for Master Levi? Then fetch some bandages, ointments, and something to eat... And get fires going in all my rooms.” He instructed the boy, who couldn’t hide his curiosity as he blinked a bit irritatedly and eyed Levi.

Shyly, Levi crept as far away from Armin as possible, a tremble setting into him from the cold no longer; the last thing he wanted was for a servant to mouth off to one particular personal guard of the King of France about his whereabouts.

“Of course, King Erwin.” Armin bowed and was off to the wetroom.

“Should I let him fetch some of your clothes?” Erwin asked.

The German gestured to a comfortable chair near the corner Levi hadn’t realized he had all but huddled into. He was quick to accept it, but he lowered himself into its plush cushions slowly, wincing as his clothes pulled on his cuts. Levi swallowed past the thickness in his throat.

“I don’t know how to thank you for what you’re doing for me.” His thin brows pinched together. He brought his knees to his chest, but, thinking of the mess he was making, he dropped them before his arms could wrap around his shins.

Levi seemed like a cornered wild animal. He was slow to move, eyed his surroundings as he followed Erwin’s invitation to have a seat, but he showed no intention to have Armin get him fresh clothes.

Erwin took a deep breath as Levi thanked him and offered a slight smile. “There’s nothing to thank me for, Master Levi. This world could use a little bit more kindness. Don’t you think?”

Levi crossed his arms over his chest and nodded with a snort. All of Levi’s vulnerability -- begging for the German’s help and placing a touch of trust in this stranger’s promises -- threatened to overwhelm him. He was scared to know how he would act if he lost all control.

Then Armin came back to them.

“King Erwin, I’ll have the fires going and get what you asked for. The bath is filling up. Is there anything else I can do for you?” He asked with a bow.

“Thank you, Armin. That’s all. Just leave the ointment, bandages, and food in the entrance area.” He advised the young man.

“Master Levi, would you please follow me?” Erwin asked as he offered his hand again, his eyes resting on that anguished face that told a hundred stories of pain -- physical and emotional. Erwin gulped heavily.

Levi took the King’s hand. He marvelled at how bony and small his knuckles looked as his fingertips brushed over the German’s palm.

“I will,” Levi breathed, gingerly rising to his feet. His other hand hastily clutched his pants.

Erwin led Levi to the wetroom, wooden floor creaking slightly beneath his steps as he felt Armin eyeing them discreetly. Of course he would. After what Erwin had seen so far, there were little to no people in this place who cared for the bastard son of the King. Maybe not even for anyone else since it seemed like everyone here acted in their own interest, not sparing too much thought about others.

The fire under the bathtub had started to heat up the air as well, and Erwin guided Levi to a small stool to sit down once more. He took off his jacket, hung it up on a hook, and then opened the buttons of his sleeves to roll back the light fabric. His hand ran through the water, and he sighed, “I would give it another minute or two.”

He reached for a flask on a shelf and poured some liquid into the bathtub before he turned to Levi again. A faint scent started filling the air.

“I have no right to ask this, but… Would you mind telling me why you are in this… Miserable state?” Erwin spoke with a soft voice as he examined Levi’s appearance once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> This chapter came a bit later than we had planned to, but both our lives are very busy at the moment. No worries, we have RP material for more chapters, but editing (which is TheHeartOfStories big passion) takes time :)
> 
> We hope you enjoy this historical slow burn <3


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